Paths of the Forsaken Arc I: The Battle for Crescent's Peak
by Dice Prophet
Summary: In a world where magic can level cities and dragons rule the skies, only the bravest and most tenacious heroes can triumph. Five strangers find themselves entangled within a brutal blood feud between the town of Crescent's Peak and the werewolf clan of the Feral Hearts. This tale is adapted from my first long-term D&D campaign, in which I was the Dungeon Master.
1. Battle in the Kobold Cave

Chrovan took another glance down at the map in his hands and mentally aligned the various markings on the parchment with their actual corresponding landmarks. The pathway had become sparser the further he climbed up the mountain, as anticipated. He had paid a sizable amount of gold for this map, but there was a growing vexing doubt at the back of his mind that it might not have been worth the investment. Regardless, he trudged on, having gone too far to turn back now.

The road had become precariously narrow, so Chrovan hugged the nearby rock face as he advanced. To his left, there was sheer cliff that jutted upwards into the sky with nary a stable foothold or viable shortcut. The earth at his feet was strewn with jagged rock shards which crumbled under his boots as he shuffled carefully forward. And barely five feet to the right, there was a sudden drop to certain death. The view was nothing he hadn't seen before; the usual landscape of distant greens and browns stretched across the horizon were impossible to discern from the last dozen similar views he had seen during his many travels. The surrounding mountains were barren, save for the occasional prickly brown shrubbery that stubbornly clung to the life despite the scorching heat and scarcity of water. Chrovan took a moment to retrieve his waterskin from his satchel and savored a quick drink of cool, fresh water.

 _If it's really there, then this will be worth it,_ he thought. _Just a bit more to the top of this wretched place_. Over the past several days he had heard intriguing rumors alluding to a mysterious artifact that some mischievous kobold cultists had acquired. After a thorough investigation among the commonfolk, he was able to discern that it had a draconic nature, which caught his attention. _Probably just some primitive idiots worshipping another totem. It would be a shame for something with such historic significance to rot in a cave in the middle of nowhere._ He continued his ascent up the dry dirt path.

At the end of the road, there was a large plateau. The narrow path widened further ahead, and was flanked on opposite sides with blackened and rounded stones. It eventually ended at the maw of a large cave. From within the darkness of the enclave, Chrovan could hear muffled, indistinct chanting in some primitive tongue. From his extensive university studies, Chrovan quickly discerned the root language, but not the specific dialect; it sounded like a slurred and more guttural version of draconic. He inspected the earthen path between the plateau and the cave, and noticed that the ground had been recently disturbed. He perceived closer, and could make out the faint outlines of rusted metal teeth jutting out from underneath the dirt. _Predictable. Traps everywhere. There may be more in there than I had anticipated._ His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of approaching footsteps grinding against gravel. He turned towards the direction of the sound as his right arm reached for the mace secured at his hip.

About twenty feet away, another figure arose from an alternative path and onto the plateau. It was a bulky and hunched-over creature with black and red scales where there would usually be skin. On one end, there was a think reptilian tail, and on the other end there was a ferocious looking snout. The dragonborn was clad with sun-eaten leather armor, and equipped with a sword tucked away inside a nicked scabbard. "Are you a friend? Or a foe?" He beckoned to the silent stranger.

"I'm neither." The dragonborn stranger replied nonchalantly, and proceeded to drop his knapsack onto the dirt. He then knelt over it and started rummaging through the bag for some unknown item, ignoring Chrovan entirely throughout.

 _Who is he? Another cultist? Is he planning something?_ Chrovan inched closer, watching the dragonborn's every move.

"I'm not here to fight you," the dragonborn spoke as he continued to search for through his belongings.

"What are you doing here, then?" Chrovan inquired, not dropping his guard. "Are you looking for the artifact as well?" The dragonborn's monotone made it difficult to discern his true intent.

"I'm here on personal business," the dragonborn snapped back dismissively. He pulled out a scuffed-up sunstone and wiped it against his sleeve, partially revealing the reddish-orange brilliance underneath. "I have no use for trinkets or treasures."

"Then we'll get along just fine," Chrovan replied.

"We?" The dragonborn stood up, secured his knapsack and slung it onto his back once more. "I work alone." He unsheathed his longsword.

 _Charming fellow,_ Chrovan thought. In his past experience, dragonborns were never a particularly friendly race, so this one's surly attitude was no surprise. "Judging by the commotion, there's at least a dozen or so in there. If you march in without backup, I doubt you'll make it past the entrance."

The rude dragonborn gave him a sneer. "I didn't ask for your opinion."

"It's not an opinion. It's a fact," Chrovan chided back, growing more annoyed with the stranger's obstinateness. "Look, I don't look forward to your company any more than you look forward to mine. But I assure you, if you go in there alone, you're never coming out." He attempted to appeal to the dragonborn's rationality, knowing full well of how prideful his race tended to be. "If we work together, we can both accomplish our goals, and go our separate ways afterwards."

The dragonborn stranger impatiently ground his teeth for a moment. "Fine," he growled. "Just don't slow me down."

 _Pompous bastard,_ Chrovan thought, growing increasingly irked at his reluctant new travel companion. _Let's see if you can keep up with me, tough guy._

The duo began slowly navigating past the wide earthen pathway, taking great care to avoid the concealed snares that had been laid in advance. A few minutes later, they arrived at the entrance to the cavern, and peered into the darkness.

Chrovan couldn't see much beyond where the sunlight could reach, but his nostrils detected the faint scent of burning flesh further down into the cave. As his eyes adjusted to the low light, he picked up the faint outlines of intermixed skeletons and other hunting refuse, which had been scattered all throughout the ground of the first chamber. The cavern narrowed into a single stone corridor, which was guarded by a single sleeping kobold.

The dragonborn walked briskly past Chrovan's side, making no effort to avoid stepping on the bones littering the ground, which crackled under his weight. As he approached the sleeping sentry, his shambling steps caused the lone guard to stir, and eventually awake.

The kobold rapidly blinked its two yellow slit eyes as it instinctively stood up at attention. Its gaze immediately fell upon the rapidly advancing dragonborn, and he began to shout out in protest.

The stranger dashed forward, clearing the gap, and seized the disoriented kobold by the mouth, cutting off his words. With the forward momentum, he slammed the back of the kobold's head against the nearby stone wall, causing the creature's body to involuntarily jerk once before slumping over, unconscious.

 _He's fast,_ Chrovan observed and recorded his temporary companion's technique. _Lacks finesse, though._ He followed suit, scanning the environment for any remaining hazards or obstacles.

"My name is Chrovan, by the way. Chrovan Dakal." He introduced himself, attempting to alleviate some of the awkward tension between him and the stranger, who was taking point and illuminating the pathway with his sunstone's warm, iridescent glow. "What do I call you by?"

"Grelos," the dragonborn replied begrudgingly as they descended deeper into the cave.

At the end of the hallway, there appeared to be some faint light from distant torches. Chrovan could see the outlines of dancing shadows cast against the nearby cave walls. To conceal their advance, Grelos quickly extinguished the sunstone and returned it to his pocket. The two entered the inner sanctum, and beheld a bizarre ritual inside.

Below, in a wide circular area, there were fifteen kobolds dancing around a large pit which held a massive raging inferno. The lizard-like creatures were chanting some bizarre tribal indications as they erratically danced around the flames. One kobold stood solemnly, his hands reaching towards the heavens and eyes held tightly shut, as if in a prayer. This individual was adjourned with a highly decorative robe constructed from hide and decorated with various feathers, shells, and ornate rocks. The clothing obscured most of his body, but through the veil, Chrovan could discern that the priest was visibly taller than the others, had a noticeably bulkier build, and had black and red scales all across his body, peculiarly similar to Grelos. Behind them, at the far end of the room, there was a large stone statue carved in the visage of a red dragon's bust. Its fearsome mouth was stretched wide, as if prepared to unleash its flame breath, and it had two outstretched arms which held aloft a strange object. Upon a closer inspection, the object was a serpentine dragon carved out of smooth red stone.

 _There it is,_ Chrovan thought, glad that he had followed through with the investigation. _Now, how do I get to you?_ He turned to his ally, who was also observing the ritual below. "I kill half, and you kill the other half?" He said jokingly.

"Leave the priest to me," Grelos demanded.

"Suit yourself," Chrovan agreed.

"Psst! Hey!" A third voice whispered to them.

Both Chrovan and Grelos spun around and pointed their weapons towards the call.

In the nearby wall, there was a rudimentary holding cell that had been carved into the rock, and reinforced with some crudely wrapped sticks. The shoddily constructed and cramped prison contained a lone figure clad in a stained green shirt and ragged black pants. He had long straight brown hair that almost reached his shoulders, his eyes were seated underneath fine eyebrows, and both sides of his face had sideburns, which met together at the chin into a short beard. "You mind helping me out here?" He whispered to them.

"Keep quiet," Grelos hushed the man coldly.

Chrovan spotted a pair of slightly pointed ears poking out from the matted hair, indicating the prisoner's half-elf heritage. It was most likely some hapless fellow whom the kobolds abducted and planned to make food out of later.

"I can help you fight," the man bargained.

Grelos and Chrovan exchanged a wordless look and shrugged. It would increase their odds of survival, and it was highly unlikely that this prisoner would aid his own captives who had intended to eat him. The two inspected the wooden bars of the haphazardly constructed prison, attempting to find a weak spot to pry the sticks loose. Chrovan attempted to bend a pair of the bundles, causing the wood to audibly creak.

"Easy," Grelos warned him.

In tandem, the two slowly and carefully pulled apart two wooden bars, creating a narrow opening for the prisoner to wiggle through.

The lone prisoner inched his way through the gap, taking great care to not further disturb the structure. He quickly made his way through to the other side, and scurried away from the bars.

Chrovan slowly released his grip on the bent bar. Unexpectedly, and the bar snapped in twain, causing the lower half to swing out rapidly, knocking an adjacent bundle out of alignment. With this, the unstable structure broke apart entirely, and collapsed over in a heap of stone and wood, making a loud rumble and kicking up dust.

The ritualistic chanting halted immediately, and the chamber was soon awash with the sounds of war cries and shuffling footsteps.

"I think they hear us," the prisoner said sarcastically.

"Damn it all," Chrovan retrieved the shield which had been slung on his back. He arose and was greeted by a squad of kobolds brandishing primitive flint spears. He turned around and realized that a separate party had also begin advancing on their backside, also visibly armed. Grelos gripped his sword tightly and held it aloft in defiance, guarding the rear.

"I could really use a weapon, guys." The prisoner remarked.

His words were ignored. "Let's see if you're as skilled as you let on," Chrovan challenged Grelos. He poised his shield towards the enemies before him and sprinted head-first into the crowd, shouting a triumphant battle cry.

Chrovan's shield smashed against the frontline and parted the wall of flesh with ease. The kobolds scattered in all directions, unable to contend with the force of his initial blow. He shifted his stance and dropped to one knee, holding the shield behind his head and swinging the mace with his right hand in a mighty arc.

The tough metal carapace of the kite shield deflected a sloppy strike with ease as his mace cleaved past two adjacent kobolds. The flanged head shattered through their primitive armor and crushed bone with little resistance, and they spun around before landing in the dirt, stone dead.

One of the creatures arose from the dirt, and leapt at him with claws and jowls barred, drooling like a rabid beast.

Chrovan repositioned his shield to match, and allowed the creature to land atop the steel barrier. And with a mighty thrust of only his left arm, he sent the foe flying off and over into the pit. The foe landed in a broken heap on the hard ground below.

Chrovan continued to repel his poorly trained and coordinated opponents, taking an occasional instant to check on his allies, to gauge their progress.

Grelos had cleaved through the first wave with ease, as evident by their motionless corpses which strewn the ground in his wake. The dragonborn was currently engaged in single combat with a particularly feral individual who wielded a pair of sickles.

Grelos swung his sword at his opponent, but the creature nimbly dodged backwards, one of his blades wrapping around Grelos' extended sword. With a single circular flourish, it forced the blade from Grelos' hand and into the dirt. It then bolted forward, bringing both sickles down around opposing sides of Grelos' neck.

Grelos took a step forward, and intercepted the creature, grasping both if his arms with his own claws. He then lifted the creature up off of its feet, and slammed his thick scaly brow directly into the center of the creature's face. The hapless kobold flew backwards, blood and broken teeth falling from of its open mouth.

One of the kobolds surrounding Chrovan managed to strike him with a dull sword at the back of the knee. Although it did not bypass the chainmail, the angle of the force caused his leg to involuntarily buckle, and he fell to one knee. Chrovan quickly shifted his weight towards his attacker, and slammed the shield downwards, simultaneously deflecting a potentially lethal head cut, and crushing his attacker's foot with the rim of the shield. His enemy shrieked in agony and lurched forward. Chrovan arose and swung his mace upward into the creature's jaw, sending its body flying backwards, and its separated head into the ceiling.

A few of the kobolds had managed to get past him, and were rushing towards the unarmed prisoner.

The prisoner began to retreat, but was quickly cornered by others who had gotten past Grelos on the other side. The prisoner frantically searched the nearby ground for a weapon, but to no avail.

A kobold lunged at him with a spear gripped in two hands. Chrovan realised that he would would not be able to clear the distance and assist the half-elf, and was forced to simply watch.

The spear was mere inches from piercing the prisoner's belly, when suddenly, in an unprecedented burst of speed, the half-elf turned his body to one side and dodged the spearhead. He then wrapped his arms around the wooden shaft, and spun his body, throwing the charging kobold wildly off-balance and disarming it.

A second kobold followed suit, brandishing a massive gnarled butcher's knife at the half-elf. The half-elf lifted the wooden shaft up to block the attack, and the heavy blade snapped the spear in half like a twig. As if he had anticipated it, the prisoner twirled both halves of the spear in a circular motion, and slammed both sticks in a cross pattern around the kobold's neck before he could even recover from the swing.

Chrovan unexpectedly felt a concussive force against his shield, immediately followed by intense heat. The magical attack forced him off his feet and he landed painfully against the nearby cave wall. He lowered the smoldering shield and beheld the head priest underneath, who was already preparing to launch another fireball. Chrovan looked to the other side, and saw that Grelos had already taken a direct hit earlier; the dragonborn was now lying on his back, barely lucid, with a large circular scorch mark on his chest where his leather chestpiece used to be. Chrovan turned around and begin sprinting away, but the earlier injury on his leg slowed him, and a second fireball exploded against the wall directly behind him. The blast scorched his back and shoved him into the dirt, causing him to drop the shield, which slid across the dirt and landed at the prisoner's feet.

The half-elf instinctively slid his foot underneath the shield and kicked it back to Chrovan.

Chrovan rolled sideways onto his back, dodging a downward stab from a nearby kobold, and caught the shield with both hands. He then raised it over his face and deflected a follow-up swing.

The half-elf threw the bladeless half of his broken spear at the kobold that was pinning down Chrovan. The blunt wooden stick contacted with the creature's back, staggering him. Before the enemy could reorient itself, the half-elf closed the distance and knocked the kobold out with a single clean kick to the jaw. He then ran back to Chrovan's side and reached down to help him back onto his feet.

Another fireball whizzed past their heads, singeing some of Chrovan's hair.

"He's not making this easy! Maybe if we ask him politely?" The half-elf was somehow able to make light of the situation, despite how dire it was. He did not realize that part of his head was still exposed to the priest at the lower level, who was still menacing them with powerful and destructive magic.

Chrovan quickly grabbed the half-elf at nape of his neck and dropped his weight, pulling him down to a lower stance, just as another ball of fire almost struck him directly in the face. Instead, it sailed past and struck more stone, scorching it.

"Wow, you're strong," the prisoner remarked as Chrovan kept a firm grip. The man's eyes suddenly lit up, as if he had an epiphany. "I've got an idea." He locked eyes with Chrovan, and they were filled with perverse joy. "Throw me."

"What?"

"I said, 'throw me!'" He repeated himself. "I can finish him off, if you can get me closer."

"Are you out of your mind?" Chrovan dismissed his preposterous suggestion. _Perhaps this man is insane, after all_.

"Do you have any other ideas?" The prisoner challenged.

Running out of options, and pinned down by constant bombardment, he complied. "Suit yourself," Chrovan warned as he slung the shield over his back to free up his other arm. He then secured the prisoner with both hands and held tightly. Finally, they ran out of cover towards the ledge in tandem, and Chrovan threw him with his all of his might as the man jumped off with both feet.

The paired forces sent him sailing through the air at great speed. The prisoner was now diving towards the draconic priest, his half-spear tightly gripped in both hands and poised towards the kobold's chest.

The priest countered by raising a single open hand, and green swirling energy burst forth from the palm and ensnared the rogue in mid-air. The fiend took a moment to revel in the half-elf's impending doom. "Did you really think that was going to work?" He laughed gutturally as he clenched his outstretched hand into a fist, causing more magical energy to materialize from from the ether and surround the helpless man. "The totem has blessed me with wondrous draconic magic! I will not be easily slain by vermin like you!"

The rogue struggled as the green tendrils of magical energy wrapped around and squeezed his malnourished and weakened frame. "Actually, I didn't." He let out between labored breaths. "I was just distracting you," he said with a slight chuckle.

Chrovan has managed to creep up to the draconic priest's flank, and was now grasping his mace with both hands. Without hesitation, Chrovan pounced towards his foe, his weapon held high. Chrovan then swung downwards with all his might, and his strike rang true.

The kobold's body crumbled forward as his head caved downwards with a spectacular splatter of blood and brain matter. The body twitched for a few seconds on the floor as blood collected in a pool around the destroyed head.

The instant the leader fell, the fire pit at the center of the room immediately extinguished itself, plunging the chamber into complete darkness.

A few seconds passed with the room entired shrouded in shadow. Chrovan could hear the sound of a footsteps dragging towards his position, but could not discern who or what it was. He took a defensive stance with his mace, prepared for another melee.

Grelos' sunstone emitted its soft orange glow and sundered the darkness. Grelos had recovered, and was now limping towards Chrovan using his longsword as a makeshift cane. His face, usually stoic, had been replaced with a look of genuine concern. He dropped the blade and rushed over to the slain priest's side. He grabbed the deceased enemy by the shoulder and flipped him over, to get a better look at the corpse.

The dragon priest's body was scaly and bulky, with lizard-like qualities accentuated by the snout and tail. Red and black scales covered the majority of his body. Although more muscular and noticeably taller than his kin, it was evident by the shape of the jawline and his sunken-in eyes that he was just another kobold, albeit a much more powerful and intelligent one.

Grelos' tenseness left his body, and he breathed an audible sigh of relief. "It's not him," Chrovan could hear him mutter under his breath.

"Who?" Chrovan inquired, somewhat intrigued by the sudden break in the dragonborn's stoic and uncaring resolve.

"Never mind," Grelos replied. He stood up and walked over to pick up the weapon he had discarded so carelessly. "What matters is that we're alive. Grab whatever you came for, and let's get out of here before any reinforcements show up."

"Way ahead of you." Chrovan began walking towards the red dragon statue, and the artifact that has been placed underneath it. To his surprise, he was greeted with a barren platform. He spun around, checking the ground surrounding the statue. _Did it get knocked off during the fight?_ He frantically searched for the carved dragon artifact. _I'm not going this far to leave empty handed._ After several seconds of searching in vain, he turned around to ask his comrades for assistance. "Hey, did either of you-" He halted mid-sentence when he realized that, to his surprise, only Grelos remained in the room with him. The nameless half-elf had vanished with nary a trace.

"Did you see where the half-elf went?" Chrovan asked Grelos.

"Beats the hell out of me. Probably out of this hellhole, if he had any brains." He crossed his arms and tapped a single foot impatiently. "Are we done yet?"

"No!" Chrovan protested. "The dragon totem, have you seen it anywhere?" He widened his search to the area surrounding the fire pit. "Do you think the rogue could've taken it?"

"Why would he take it?" Grelos asked. "I doubt he had any reason to take it. He must've been in a hurry, though. Left without saying a word."

 _Goddamn thief. And a coward, to boot. I should've known._ Chorvan let out an exasperated grunt of disgust and frustration. "If I ever get my hands on him again, I'm gonna break his arm," Chrovan fumed.

"Relax, would you?" Grelos gestured towards the dozen or so corpses that littered the ground in the aftermath of their skirmish. "Maybe one of these sorry bastards have something of use."

Chrovan rolled his eyes. It wouldn't be the priceless draconic totem he sought out, but it would be better than nothing. He knelt down beside the leader's corpse and patted its robes, in an attempt to rummage for anything of value. His hands fell upon a belt and some rope, which had been recently slashed. From the look of the strap design, it might've been attached to a coin purse. It appeared the the rogue, in the precious seconds that passed after the darkness fell, had managed to swipe both the totem and the priest's money before escaping their sight entirely. Chrovan grumbled again, and looked up to Grelos. "Correction. I'll break his arm, and his leg."

Much to his chagrin, Chrovan was forced to leave the cave without any treasures. As the two returned to the entrance and were greeted by a comforting evening breeze, they exchanged a long, wordless stare.

Chrovan was first to break the silence. "Grelos, was it? You're not a bad swordsman. Those were some impressive moves back there. That is, until you ate that fireball," he remarked jokingly.

"Lucky shot," Grelos scoffed. "You're a rather strong fellow yourself." He started to walk back down the way he had come from. "I best be off, now," he said with a backwards wave.

"Where are you going?" Chrovan asked.

"I don't know." Grelos shrugged uncaringly. "Fallcrest, maybe? I think it's less than a day and a half from here."

"All by yourself?" Chrovan continued. "With a sword hand like yours, I'm pretty sure I can find us a merchant who would pay us well to serve as escorts."

"We?" Grelos turned to face him with a cocked eyebrow.

"You watch my back, and I'll watch yours," Chrovan reasoned. "You'll live longer. Maybe you'll even find the person you're searching for."

Grelos looked away for a moment and mentally assessed his options. He let out an exasperated sigh and arrived at a decision. "Alright," he agreed. "Let's see where this goes."


	2. Barfight!

Uriko's hands moved across the paper with grace as she etched elaborate magical diagrams and complex elvish scripts. She smiled, feeling prideful about her neat and elegant calligraphy. Once the ink had dried, she moved the quill onto the next page and continued transcribing notes into her spellbook. She caught herself nervously licking her own arm, an embarrassing habit she had yet to shake off from her earlier years. She stopped herself, thankful that no one else noticed, and started reading another book.

Another hour passed, and by then she had finished inscribing another ritual into her trusty book. It was an old and worn out thing, with its fading red leather cover and tattered brown pages, but it held great sentimental value. Uriko had always found solace in her reading. Learning about magic, ancient and contemporary, was an endless source of wonder for her. It reminded her of the awesome powers that governed the realm, and inspired her to improve her own druidic magical prowess through diligent practice. She felt inspired to follow in the footsteps of the greats whom had come before her. Her favorite tales were of powerful spellcasters who could shape earth, time, and space on a whim. She had grown up learning about the exploits of countless legendary figures throughout her tutelage with the elves. _One day I'll be like them. No, I'll be even greater._ She told herself every night.

Uriko stood up to stretch and ease the tension in her body that had accumulated after prolonged sitting. She shut her eyes tightly as respite for her strained eyes, which had grown tired from constantly reading. She then twisted her back side-to-side with a satisfying crack as she took a quick look around the room, and noticed that the environment had changed since the last time she checked.

Some leftover sunlight peaked through the clean spots and broken panels of the tavern windows, filling the room with a warming yellow-orange glow. _Must've lost track of time,_ she thought. _It's nearly sundown._

Uriko yawned and took a deep breath. The expected smell of rotting wood and alcohol filled the air like a haze, but she had long since become accustomed to it and didn't care. She noticed that there were several others in the immediate vicinity. A pair of unconscious dwarves laid in the corner, one atop the other, both snoring loudly. There was a quartet of humans were sitting huddled around a circular table, playing cards. To the back of the room, there was a large oak bench that stretched along half the width of the room. Behind it, there were four large shelves displaying a large assortment of various beverages. The bartender Olaf, a fat man with an awkward combover and a bushy mustache, was wiping down some glasses and keeping the place clean, as usual.

 _It'll be dark soon,_ she thought. _I'll finish the rest tomorrow._ She began shuffling her various scattered tomes of magic, folklore, and nature into nicely organized piles. As she began to pack up her belongings into her bag, her eyes fell back upon a particularly interesting passage in her newest book: "Open Grave: Secrets of the Undead." She bit her lip as she internally debated for a moment. _After I finish this,_ she concluded, and she sat back down to resume her work again.

As the light slowly waned over the next several minutes, the door opened again beside her, and she felt the cool breeze of the encroaching twilight brush against her fur, causing her to shudder. _Why did I choose to sit so close to the door?_

A pair of strangers entered the establishment. One appeared to be human, and had messy black hair that went past his shoulders. This man had pale skin and a slight beard developing around his chin and cheeks. He was clad in fancy-looking chainmail and had a kite shield slung over his back and a flanged mace secured to his hip. The fellow beside him wore tarnished leather armor covered up with a dark green cloak with visible tears in the cloth. Uriko spotted a red and black scaled tail poking out the back of his cloak, and he appeared to have a long snout lined with sharp teeth, almost like an alligator.

The odd couple strode towards the bar bench, and eventually sat down besides each other. They had a look of weariness on their faces, and were constantly looking around, as if suspicious of their surroundings.

"Dragonborn, eh?" Uriko could hear the bartender remarking. "We don't usually have your kind visiting our town."

"That has been made abundantly clear these past few days," the scaly stranger retorted.

"Let's just say we're not exactly good at making friends," the human spoke.

Uriko sat up, feeling a bit parched. She walked over the bartender and waited for her turn to be served.

"What'll you be havin' tonight?" The barkeep asked the duo, gesturing to the unorganized bottles in the shelves behind himself.

"I'll have a bottle of spitfire," the dragonborn stoically grumbled as his chair creaked. Without waiting for a reply, he dropped a sack of silver coins onto the grog-soaked bench. "Keep the change."

The bartender's demeanor instantly lit up. "Very well! Right away, sir!" He quickly pocketed the payment and walked towards the trapdoor. He lifted the wooden slab, descended into the space, and began rummaging his inventory for the requested item.

As he sat there waiting, the dragonborn fidgeted with the leather belt and harness which kept a longsword fastened to his hip. The blade rattled against its hilt, indicating its sup-par craftsmanship. The human leaned closer to him and they began conversing inaudibly.

Uriko, barely three feet away, tired not to make eye contact or eavesdrop on their conversation. But her eyes eventually wandered, and she noticed that the dragonborn was removing some chips of crusted blood from underneath his gnarled claws and nonchalantly flicking them away.

The dragonborn sniffled twice, and then abruptly sneezed. He peered over his shoulder, and his cat-slit reptilian yellow eyes locked with hers.

Uriko awkwardly spun away, breaking eye-contact.

"Here we are!" The bartender proclaimed, breaking the awkward silence. He emerged from beneath the floorboards, lifting a dark amber bottle with a bright red label into the air. "One bottle of spitfire for my number one custom-"

The dragonborn snatched the bottle from his hands, interrupting him. He bit down on the bottleneck, snapping off the entire thing, and spat it out to his side. Shards of broken glass and mashed up cork spewed from his dagger-lined mouth. He then raised the broken bottle up to his lips inverted it downwards into his gullet. Uriko, the bartender, and other nearby patrons continued to stare in bewilderment as the mysterious stranger gulped down the stinging black liquid without pausing.

The dragonborn's companion nonchalantly spoke to the bartender. "I'll have a stout." And he dropped some coins onto the bench.

The bartender retrieved a hollowed-out horn and filled it to the rim with dark brown liquid from a nearby cask. "Enjoy," he said as he handed the overflowing foamy drink to the human. "And what about you, miss?" He asked, finally addressing her.

"Could I have another one of these?" She asked, holding up her empty mug.

"Sure thing, lass." The man poured topped off her mug with more ice-cold milk. He then took a second to mill over the various papers and books strewn about her area. "What's all that, then? Are you one of them scholar folk?"

Uriko lapped up some milk before replying, refreshing herself. "Something like that," she said with a smile. "I'm learning how to cast rituals. One of the hardest ones I've come across is 'Raise Dead.' I can barely decipher the symbols, let alone even begin to cast it." She began to ramble. "Magic that affects life, such as raise dead and true resurrection, are among some of the most difficult magics to perform. Not only are the ritual components exceptionally rare, but the spell also usually poses a significant threat to the caster as well. And to top it off, the whole topic itself is packed with controversy. Many debate whether it should be considered necromancy, and that all usages of the spell should be strictly limited. In fact, this ritual is so difficult to perform that it usually only performed by ordained members of the clergy or by accredited spellcasters."

The bartender continued to nod, slowly backing away. "That sounds fascinating, lady."

"Thanks for the drinks, barkeep! Keep them coming!" Uriko said with a friendly wink. She then rushed back to her studies with utmost urgency.

Another hour passed swiftly. Uriko, who had initially planned to sleep earlier this night, had finished reading an additional two books, and had transcripted several new spells. The sun had long set, but the nearby array of swaying candles offered some illumination. Uriko began to doze off from time to time. _Maybe I should turn in now?_ She thought. "Just one more," she murmured under her breath. She looked up from the book, clearing her blurring vision, and noticed that dragonborn and his companion were still drinking. They had accumulated a massive pile of empty bottles, glasses, and mugs atop the bench where they sat.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" The bartender asked with a look of concern. "I'm worried you'll drop dead at any second," he said half-jokingly.

"I'll decide when I've had enough," the scaly man snapped back.

"I can still see, so I'm nowhere near finished yet," his human companion slurred.

The bartender rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say," he replied as he filled another pair of steins with frothy amber liquid.

Uriko's sensitive ears perked up for a second. Despite her sleep-deprived mind, Uriko's keen senses were still able to detect the faintest sound from the outside: an alarming scraping of metal. Blades were being drawn. The double door beside her abruptly flew open, making a thunderous clatter as it slammed against the nearby wall. The resultant wind knocked over her half-filled cup, spilling the contents over some of her books. "Hey, what gives?" She let out in frustration.

Within seconds, five burly, grizzled men entered the establishment. They all wore grey wolf pelt garments, save for some brown leather boots and gloves. They had scowls etched across their faces as they scanned the room, searching for someone. Their eyes centered upon the human and dragonborn duo by the bar.

"You!" One of them called out. He was a taller man than the others. He had a bulky, muscular build with thick limbs and broad shoulders. His head was topped with black hair left in a twisted and unkempt fashion. And most noticeably his face was covered with bruises and swollen, bloodied flesh.

The two companions ignored him.

"Don't you ignore me, you-"

Uriko interrupted him, her annoyance boiling over. "Well, that was rude!" She had just finished tidying up her workspace, and was now glaring straight at them. "Who enters a bar like that?! Were you raised by wolves or something?"

The leader pointed a single finger at her in a threatening manner, "You shut your whore mouth, bitch, or I'll make you swallow your own teeth." The ruffian then turned back to the duo and, with an accomplice at both sides, began advancing on them.

His fourth and firth associates remained by the door, keeping lookout.

Uriko clenched her clawed fists as the hairs all along her body began to stand on end. _Don't you turn your back on me._ She reached into a her pocket and pulled out a single, small, pristine red rose with the thorny stalk still intact.

"Look, fellas, if you two have a problem with one another, please take it outside," the bartender pleaded, backing away to a safer corner.

"You two owe me some money, you goddamn cheat! No one takes a beating like that with nothing to show for it!" He had a large hunting knife clutched tightly in his right hand. His pace increased as he continued towards the unmoving pair.

Uriko stepped forward and chanted a quick incantation. She could feel the magical energy coursing through her veins, amplified by her rage, as she reached her right hand forward. Druidic magic poured from her hand and into the rose, causing it to grow and extend at a supernatural rate. It morphed into a massive vine adorned with vibrant green leaves and covered with thorns, reached outward several yards, and wrapped itself around the thug's shoulder. The initial attack ensnared him and stopped his advance in his tracks. Uriko immediately followed up and yanked the rude man backwards with all of her might. He flipped over once in the air and landed loudly in a painful, contorted heap. The green whip released its grasp and slipped away like a serpent, stopping as it gently wrapped itself around her arm and rested.

The brutish man quickly recovered, stood up, and turned to face her. His massive build dwarfed hers, and his square jaw was clenched in an intense grimace as he stared her down. He fumed as he reared his left fist backwards and threw it at her face with a wild swing.

With cat-like grace and elegance, Uriko nimbly contorted her slender frame and narrowly dodged the blow. She appeared on the other side of his arm, poised towards his back.

His overzealous swing and subsequent miss caused the attacker to lose his balance.

Uriko glided over to the man's exposed left side. She bared her right hand, which sported five sharpened claws. And with a single downward arc of her palm, slammed his face downward into the earth, knocking him out cold.

"Learn some manners," Uriko quipped as she cracked her fur-covered knuckles. Her palm was slightly stinging from the impact.

All the bandits in the tavern stood frozen in bewilderment for a few brief moments. They then broke out of their stunned silence and drew their weapons. One brandished a gnarled axe, and the other clutched a spiked club. The two closest to her each sported a pair of jagged, rusted daggers.

"You'll pay for that, you mangy cunt!" The bandit beside the door who was closest to Uriko dashed towards her. His ally fell suit, not speaking.

Uriko felt a slight chill when she had realized what she had done. She dropped her stance and started backing away, her arms raised ready to defend herself further. There was hint of excitement mingled with the fear of the impending battle, which caused her to slightly grin.

"Come here, you!" One of the riffians rushed up to meet her, his teeth bared like a feral dog. The flickering candlelight gleamed off the clean streaks on his poorly-kept blade.

Unexpectedly, as Uriko braced herself to defend against her nearest foe, a glass sailed into her periphery before contacting with the side of the man's head and shattering into several jagged shards. The attack immediately interrupted his attack, and he was knocked sideways before he could reach her. Blood began to drip down the side of his head as he clutched his head in pain.

Uriko turned to face whomever threw the glass, and saw that the man at the bar had arisen and was retracting his left arm. He had one of the bandits held in a chokehold with his right arm. He maintained his grip with ease, despite the bandit's fervent struggles.

The other thug closest to the bar was now lying in the fetal position, painfully grasping his stomach. The skid marks on the earth indicated that he has been knocked back several feet. The dragonborn walked coolly past his incapacitated foe and began muttering something guttural.

Distracted by the shock, Uriko failed to notice that the other doorman had gotten within arms reach of her. From the corner of her eye, she could only watch helplessly as he descended upon her with blade in hand.

As a follow-up, the dragonborn entered a wide stance as a shining blue tether wreathed in sparks poured out from his palm. With one decisive outstretch of his arm, the lightning whip flew towards the doorman and ensnared him by the throat.

The knife stopped within an inch from Uriko's forehead, and she shifted back in recoil. It would have impaled her face if the dragonborn had not intervened.

The dragonborn then gave the vibrant crackling whip a sharp yank and the bandit subsequently spun towards him and landed painfully face-first in the dirt, twitching from the remntant electrical energy surging through his body.

The doorman with the bloodied forehead recomposed himself and turned to face Uriko, eager for another chance to hurt her.

Uriko did not give him time to recover. She dropped onto one knee, slammed her rose vine covered hand into the ground, and immediately casted another spell. _Let's see if this works,_ she thought, hopeful.

Her enchantment was thankfully successful. The vines left her body and began to change form yet again. They grew outward across the ground in a pattern akin to a spider's web. They surged toward the bandit's legs and latched onto the bottom of his boots. The tendrils of rapidly growing vines started to move upward and around his body, constricting more tightly as they enveloped him. In mere seconds, the bandit's entire body had been completely encased in ensnaring greenery. The thorns dug into his flesh whenever he struggled, drawing blood.

Uriko shook her head twice to alleviate the light-headed feeling she had acquired from the ordeal. She was still getting accustomed to casting combative druidic magic, and had never strained herself this intensely before. But despite her waning physical strength, she briefly paused to revel at what she had accomplished under pressure. "Wait here until the city watch comes for you," she taunted the imprisoned bandit as she stood back up.

The unnamed human slammed the bandit he was grappling with face-first into the wooden bench with a cacophonous sound. The bandit crumbled in an unconscious heap at the base of the bar, his face covered with fresh blood.

The electrocuted bandit attempted to rise from the dirt, but the twitching spurred by the dragonborn's lightning attack prevented him from securing stable footing. As he fumbled with his steps, the dragonborn slowly walked towards him, cracking his neck. In abject terror, the weakened bandit began to reach for a secondary weapon; a knife that he had kept hidden behind his left hip.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" Uriko heard the dragonborn's voice clearly for the first time, and he spoke with a deep, gravelly voice. He drew his longsword and held it to the man's throat. "I wouldn't kill an unarmed man," he warned, taunting him with tip. "I suggest you remain that way, unless you are keen to die tonight."

The bandit's eyes welled up with tears as he sat trembling on the floor. A steady pool began to collect underneath his crossed legs.

 _Bullies, and cowards._ Uriko thought. _Figures_.

At this point, the bartender was livid. "All of you," he beckoned to Uriko, the dragonborn, and the human. "Get out of here!" He gestured to them towards the exit. "I don't want any of your trouble!"

"But we-" Uriko began to protest, but her words were cut off.

"Help me!" The lone, conscious, and entangled bandit let out a desperate cry as he painfully writed in Uriko's cage of thorns, "We need backup! Kill them all!" He continued to shout.

Beyond the veil of the bar's oak double doors, Uriko could hear more steel being drawn. Others were coming.

Uriko began backing away from the door, aligning herself between the double doors and the dragonborn and human duo. "What do we do now?" She asked, growing increasingly anxious.

The human brandished his shield and mace. "We have no choice. We'll have to fight our way out." He seemed unconcerned.

The doors were violently kicked apart again. This time, the leftmost door fell off its rusted hinges and collapsed onto the floor in a clatter. An additional eight brutes entered the establishment, this time armed with swords, and clad much more well-kept leather armor.

 _Bodyguards. But who were they protecting_?

The mercenaries pointed their blades at the ragtag trio and began marching in unison towards them. From the way they advanced, Uriko could discern that they were much more coordinated and trained than the previous lot.

Uriko continued to back away towards the bar-side of the room, moving away from them in fear. She felt magically diminished and exhausted; she could not cast for combat anymore.

The encroaching marauders were now within ten feet of the trio, their sharp swords jutting towards them.

"Relax, we'll handle this," the dragonborn addressed Uriko directly for the first time. "Get behind-" His words were violently cut off as he let out a thunderous agonized roar.

Uriko spun around to investigate the startling sound. She gasped in horror at what she saw. As they were distracted, the leader from before had regained consciousness, dragged himself over to the dragonborn's side undetected, and sunk his great knife into his scaly back.

Blood dripped down the length of the dragonborn's armor and onto the floor. He dropped his sword and turned towards his assailant as both arms seized the bandit by the throat. They both loudly struggled for a moment, and bandit managed to reach around and twisted the knife.

The dragonborn roared again in pain, and seized the bandit's forearm with his right hand as his left hand continued to constrict the bandit's throat.

Uriko could feel her hairs perk up all around her body, as if she had recently rubbed up against wool. The feeling of the air had changed. _What's happening?_

"Attack!" The swordsmen trumpeted as they finally broke formation and charged.

The dragonborn flexed his right arm, causing the bandit's elbow to bend sickeningly in the opposite direction with a muffled pop. The man attempted to cry out, but was only able to squeeze out a pitiful whimper as his throat was held tightly shut.

The dragonborn spun his head around towards Uriko's direction, staring past her. His mouth was stretched wide open, and she could see sparks forming deep within his throat. Streaks of blue began to arc out from his gullet.

"Get down!" The unnamed man charged into Uriko's without warning, knocking her to the ground and partially draping his body over hers.

The abrupt landing knocked the wind from her lungs. She instinctively raised both arms to shield herself.

The armed mob was now directly upon them both, and she was helpless on the floor as they swung their swords.

Without warning, a wall of brilliant blue crackling energy slammed against the approaching bandits, launching them backwards with blinding speed. A vortex of lighting had somehow materialized and was sweeping away the mob like a savage wind. The remaining ruffians, along with various strewn about objects, sailed through the air and slammed into various pieces of furniture and scenery as lightning cascaded all across their bodies. Some stray dancing sparks arced towards Uriko and struck her in the back, painfully zapping her. A blinding light engulfed the entire room, and she shielded her eyes from the blast. Finally, there was a conclusive and deafening thunderclap, followed by the intermittent sounds of collapsing wood, stone, and bodies.

Uriko coughed loudly as she shoved off the stranger. "Get off!" She hissed as she arose. She waved the layer of sawdust off of her body and squinted into the dimly lit area, attempting to find her way through. As the dust swirled all around her, Uriko could barely see five feet in front of her own face. Chips of wood scattered from her hair as she traipsed through the miasma. Her fur had been puffed up by the same lightning energy that had just devastated the room. _What in the hell was that?_ she thought, irritated. She shook her entire body, releasing more debris that had clung onto her fur. _I've never seen magic like that before,_ she thought. Up to now she had mostly dedicated her magic to manipulating plant matter, which was a useful utility throughout her earlier years. But she had never seen a lightning breath up close before. The idea intrigued, and simultaneously frightened her.

As she reached the former entrance to the tavern, her jaw dropped at the sheer destruction she witnessed.

The remnants of the double doors, along with a large portion of the adjacent walls had been torn to pieces by the magnificent burst of lightning. Chunks of shattered wood and glass had been spilled onto the street outside, along with the unmoving bodies of their former enemies. Some remnant sparks danced around the air, clinging to any metallic objects in the vicinity.

Uriko turned around, and could see the faintest outline of the dragonborn's bulky frame from within the settling dust cloud. She could also make out the silhouette of a second figure. She slowly approached him, curious to learn more. Uriko kept her arms outstretched to aid in her navigation and prevent her from bumping into anything.

The dust finally parted for her to see clearly.

The dragonborn was standing tall, with both clawed hands tightly grasping the bandit leader's throat. He pinned his helpless foe against the cracked and drink-soaked bench. There were remnant sparks dancing inside his gaping fang-filled maw, a supposed aftereffect of using his dragon's breath ability. Up close, the dragonborn was a fearsome looking individual. The massive knife was still sticking out of his back, causing a steady stream of crimson to pour down his armor.

The dragonborn's clawed hand tightened around his victim's throat, making the helpless foe let out a desperate gag.

Uriko felt an eerie chill crawl up her spine. The sounds the man made were disturbing, but she was unable to look away.

The thug attempted to struggle, and weakly reached from the knife, in a desperate attempt to make the lizard-man release him. But his grip was ironclad. He began to awkwardly flail about pathetically.

The dragonborn effortlessly lifted the hapless thug up to his feet as he continued to strangle him. He lifted him up further, until his feet were no longer touching the ground.

Uriko could feel her heart pounding in her ears. Time and everything around her slowed to a crawl.

By now, the thug's eyes had rolled over, and his face was turning purple as throbbing veins were etched across his forehead. A steady stream of drool began to pour from his twitching mouth.

Two other figures emerged from out of the dust cloud, flanking Uriko from her right and left side. They appeared to be two tall, tan-skinned women in guard's uniforms. They were yelling something indiscernible to her, but she paid them no heed. They also aimed their spears at the dragonborn and yelled commands, but he did not respond or acknowledge them either.

"Don't do it!"

"Let him go!"

"You should've let me be," the dragonborn whispered as he stared down at his doomed victim with fiery eyes.

Uriko flinched as a meaty crunch echoed throughout the room. The dragonborn finally dropped the bandit leader. His body landed onto its knees, almost as if he were still alive. The head bobbed sickeningly side to side from the draft, until at last, it bent all the way backwards, bringing the rest of the body crumpling to the earth.

The dragonborn reached behind his own back and, with a painful wince through gritted teeth, pulled the blade out of his back. His eyes begin to glaze over, possibly from the rapid blood loss. His stabbed the knife into a nearby bar stool and began shambling towards Uriko.

The two guards immediately rushed towards the dragonborn and set upon him with a series of blows, knocking him into the dirt. He did not resist as they continued their relentless assault on his unmoving body. He gazed into Uriko's eyes and never broke his concentration. Eventually he was knocked out cold by a spear's wooden shaft. The other proceeded to attach chained hand restraints onto the unconscious dragonborn's limp wrists.

Uriko looked back across the demolished, bar, and noticed that the mail-clad warrior had also been apprehended. "You are an accomplice of a grievous crime! The charge is murder, and you will be brought to justice!" One guard barked into his ear as they wrestled him into the ground.

Within seconds, the nameless human had both hands secured behind his back and was struggling to explain himself. "We were defending ourselves!" A gauntleted fist to the gut shut him up.

Behind her, Uriko could hear the coordinated footsteps of several more guards approaching the scene in response to the explosion. Barely a minute had passed before a squad of steel-clad footsoldiers appeared at the gaping entrance of the tavern.

Abruptly, one of the guards immediately moved up to Uriko. "Are you hurt?" He asked in a booming voice, causing her to instinctively flinch.

"No, no," she started. "I'm completely fine," she started. "I'm-"

Her words were cut off by a shrill, panicked voice. "It's all her fault this happened!" It was Olaf, the bartender. His face was caked with sawdust and sweat, and he was pointing at her accusingly. "She started the fight by attacking their leader! It's all her fault!" He repeated, almost hysterical.

A second guard appeared from behind Uriko, uncomfortably close to her. "Is that true?" The voice asked as hot breath wafted against her nape. "Are you responsible for this carnage?"

"It's true!" One of the other bar patrons cried out. The mob had turned against her.

"No!" She immediately replied. "Of course not! They attacked me first! I-" She stopped herself when as she began to recollect what had just occurred. "Well, technically no," she sheepishly started over. "But I was just defending myself, and-" She started fumbling with her words, and her cheeks flushed red in embarrassment.

"I want you, that scaly bastard, and his friend to pay for the damages you have caused me!" The bartender shrieked. He started breathing very rapidly and flailing his short, stubby arm in a flustered manner.

"All, right I've heard enough," a third guard said as she seized Uriko's arm.

Uriko began to resist. "Wait! It wasn't my fault!" She started to squirm away, but another pair of hands seized her. This time, they grabbed her shoulder and gripped tightly. Uriko instinctively bit down on the back of the hand, drawing copper-tasting red liquid.

The guard released her hold and exclaimed, "Ow! You bitch!" She reared her other hand back in a fist, and in a flash of light, caused Uriko to see stars.


	3. Jailbreak

Abner tapped his foot impatiently as he waited within the confines his cell. The rooms were cramped and cold, but he had experienced worse before, and he had escaped them all just the same. _There's always a way out_ , he repeated to himself as he studied everything he could observe. He could smell traces of waste wafting up from the floor, most likely from the last resident of his cell. _How charming_. The wooden bench that served unsatisfactorily as both a seat and a bed was worn out and gnarled, making it impossible to sit comfortably. In his boredom, he nonchalantly crushed a nondescript insect that attempted to scurry past his booted foot. The chains connecting the manacles on his wrists rattled as he shifted into a more comfortable position.

Someone in an adjacent cell audibly groaned in pain. She had been carried into the dungeon several hours earlier, but was completely unconscious when the guards dropped her off. At the same time, they also brought in a blonde human and a dragonborn who had been beaten senseless.

"You're finally awake," Abner remarked, eager to have someone to converse with.

"What? Where am I?" The woman droned on sluggishly as she slowly arose.

"You're in the dungeons, obviously." Abner answered.

She winced in pain, and began to rub the back of her head. "How long have I been out?"

"I dunno. Four, maybe five hours?" Abner guessed. "I guess they knocked you out pretty good!" He joked as he inspected her peculiar figure. He had never seen a shifter up close before, but he had heard of them through conversations with traders and rangers; his years of roaming the cities had limited his exposure to the wild-folk. Her striped auburn hair made her look like a tiger that somehow learned to walk on its hind legs. She even had the mannerisms of a wild beast; he noticed that she was licking her own arm as she fidgeted nervously in her cage. When their eyes met for the first time, she abruptly stopped, and her cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

"So, did you?" Abner pried.

"Did I what?" She said as she paced around in circles. Her ringed cat-like tail whipped from side to side with each step.

"Did you really start a bar fight? I heard that you lot blew up the tavern."

She scoffed. "They started the fight." She paused to stretch and extended her slender cat-like frame. "We just finished it."

Abner let out a hearty laugh.

"What's so funny?!" She hissed at him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude, Miss…? What can I call you?"

The shifter crossed her arms and continued to pout.

"Come on, you're the only one who's spoken to me for hours." He gestured with his thumb to the surly-looking dragonborn and human sitting inside two other adjacent cells. The dragonborn had been quietly meditating the whole time, and the human appeared to be deep in thought as he stared straight at Abner. "Up to now I've only had this charming fellow to chat with," he said sarcastically. "And his friend won't stop staring at me. It's rather unsettling."

"I know you from somewhere," the human chimed in, pointing an accusatory finger at Abner. "I recognize your face."

The dragonborn, however, continued to ignore everything going on around him.

The woman took a breath, composed herself, and said, "My name's Uriko."

Abner stood up from his seat and bowed formally. "The pleasure's all mine, Uriko. My name is Abner. Abner Nightingale. I am an intrepid adventurer, connoisseur, and a man of many talents." He smiled with a cocked eyebrow.

"Is that your way of saying that you're a thief?" Uriko snarked back. She leaned her back against the cell bars.

"You wound me, Uriko," Abner quipped back with his usual calm demeanor. "This," he started, shaking the manacles that restrained his hands, "is merely a terrible misunderstanding. I'll have you know that I'm from a prestigious noble family in the vale. Perhaps once they come to secure my release I'll take you with me, if you apologize and show me some respect."

"My sincerest apologies, m'lord," Uriko said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she moved closer to him. "I just didn't expect such a highborn man to have such impressive calluses on his hands. From the looks of it, maybe you acquired them from climbing up the social ladder? Or more likely from scaling the city walls?" She said with a smirk.

 _Damn_. Abner snickered, realizing she had seen through his bluff. He looked at his hands and realized there were still some flecks of powderized red brick caked underneath his nails and around his fingertips. They were a vexing reminder of the botched break-in during the previous night that resulted in his current incarceration. He clapped his hands together and rubbed them, brushing the debris away. "You're a perceptive woman, Uriko. I'll admit that I underestimated you," he conceded. "You're a much more interesting person that these titans of charm and intellect." He nodded back towards the unresponsive duo.

Uriko turned her nose up at him and sat back down onto her bench.

Abner shifted his attention back to the scaly man. "Great company, eh?"

The dragonborn started whispering some foreign language under his breath. It sounded more like he was clearing his throat more than speaking actual words.

"I heard the guards talking about you earlier," Abner started. "They say you snapped a man's neck like a twig." He sat down with his crossed his legs on the floor, and scooted a little closer to his new acquaintance. "How did you pull that off?"

"Come a little closer and I'll show you personally," the dragonborn threatened.

"Hey, we're gonna be stuck here together for a while, so I'd suggest we try to get along," Abner said as he backed away. He felt tempted to test the dragonborn's threat, but he didn't feel the risk would've been worth it. _It's not like the guards would come to my aid if I needed it._

The dragonborn continued his deep-focused meditation session.

"I remember now!" The human interjected, suddenly becoming angry. "You're that thief that ran off with our loot from the kobold cave!" He accused.

"The what cave?" Abner was confused. It did not sound familiar.

"We saved your life! And you didn't even share the treasure with us!" The man continued. "You ran off like a goddamn craven!"

"Kobold cave?" Abner muttered, and took a moment to ponder. "Oh! I remember!" He exclaimed as snapped his fingers. He grew oddly sentimental when he recalled the details of the heroic escape and battle. "We made a pretty good team, as I recall."

"What did you do with the dragon statue?" The man inquired, growing livid.

"I sold it. What else?" Abner tapped on the chestpiece of his pristine brown leather armor. He was also wearing green cloth robes and a black cloak. "Armor isn't cheap. And besides, I was there before you lot came in. I claimed salvage first."

"You pawned it off?!" The human shouted angrily. "That was a priceless relic!"

"Priceless? The broker didn't think it was." Abner picked some lint out of his ear with his pinky finger and flicked it away.

"We should've left you in that cage to rot," the human shot back, his voice filled with contempt.

"Hey, it's not like I outright abandoned you. I helped you fight." Abner scoffed. "You wouldn't have even gotten close to the dragon priest without getting fried if I didn't distract him for you."

"I have nothing more to say to you, thief," the unnamed man fumed as he returned to his seat.

 _High borns._ Abner thought as he rolled his eyes. _Always on that high horse._ He reclined back onto the bench in his cell, placed his cloth hood over his face, and napped.

Another tedious hour passed by with nary a sound or conversation. Between drifting in and out of consciousness, he could hear Uriko pacing around her cell, breathing heavily. _Almost like a caged tiger,_ he thought, amused. To alleviate the tedium, he slightly opened his eyes to observe in secret.

"I regret nothing! That bastard deserved it! " Uriko suddenly blurted out loud as she swiped her claws through the air in a burst of fury. Her hand accidentally collided with the metal bars, and made a ringing metallic sound. Ow!" She exclaimed as she pulled back her bruised knuckle.

Abner stifled an amused chuckle. _Such grace._

Her outburst caused the dragonborn in the cell across the room to shake, as if startled. He finally turned to address her. "Could you please stop doing that? You're breaking my concentration," he said with a condescending tone.

Uriko became flustered. "Ya know, if you two didn't bring your drama into the tavern, we wouldn't even be in this mess!" She stuck out her tongue out at him.

The scaly fellow rudely dismissed her without a response and returned to his mediation, which he had been doing for several hours now. He muttered under his breath, "You're more annoying than the thief."

Uriko's tail suddenly bushed up and started whipping violently back and forth. She had one hand clenched tightly into a fist. She then closed her eyes, took a long deep breath, leaned back onto her bench, and slumped lazily into her seat. "Ya know," she started, picking dirt and other debris out from under her claws. "I saved your life back there."

"No, you didn't," he snapped back without opening his eyes.

"We could've handled it. You shouldn't have gotten involved," the human agreed with this companion.

Uriko did not back down from her taunting. "I dunno," she continued coyly. "It was two against five, and both of you were severely drunk. And even if you took out the first five, the eight waiting outside would've definitely finished you off." She said with a smug look. "Both of you would be dead right now if it weren't for me."

"Your point is?" The human retorted.

Uriko stood up quickly, clearly getting frustrated with his tough-guy act. "So maybe you should be a little nicer to me!" She sneered.

The dragonborn took a long deep relaxing breath. He then turned to her, and without any change on his face, and said, "Thank you, Uriko. For helping us back there."

"That's better," Uriko replied. "What are your names?"

"My name is Chrovan Dakal," the man proudly declared. There was a nearly insufferable pride that dripped from every word he spoke. "I'm the last surviving member of House Dakal."

 _Dakal? Sound familiar._ Abner pondered. For some reason he could hear the sounds of trains in his head. _I must be misremembering something._

The dragonborn had gone silent yet again.

"I asked you a question, scaly man!" She clearly had very little patience left for this man.

"My name is Grelos," he replied sternly. "Now, if you would please allow me some peace and quiet to meditate a little longer, I might be able to get us both out of here."

"How are you gonna get us out of here by sitting on your ass muttering to yourself?" Uriko asked, her arms at her hips.

Abner also questioned the validity of his ambiguous escape plan, but he was not worried. _There's more than one way to escape. All you need is a little finesse._

"I am bonded with my sword," Grelos began explaining himself. "I was trained for many years in the arts of sword magic. This has allowed me to bond with the sword, and control it as if it were an extension of my body."

"Yes, and?" Uriko inquired.

"If I can find it, I can call it back to me," he said impatiently. "But I currently cannot see it, so I have to locate it with my other senses. Which means I need total focus. So, Uriko. Could you please give me more time to myself?"

"Sure, whatever." Uriko ceased to talk.

Eventually, further down the hall, Abner could hear the sound of locks being turned. He sat back up and composed himself. _Almost time,_ he thought, growing excited. A few moments passed, and five heavily armored prison guards entered the vicinity. Two of them were clad in chainmail and had wooden clubs at the ready. Another two were equipped with leather-covered coat-of-plates, and carried loaded crossbows. The fifth has adorned entirely in greyed-out plate, save for a helmet, which he has removed beforehand.

"Oh, look, it's my favorite people in all of the planes," Abner said with the most obviously sarcastic tone he could muster. "Have you come to finally set me free?"

"Shut your mouth, scoundrel!" A guard kicked the bars of his cell.

"Let's get this riffraff sorted out first," the apparent leader spoke. He was a grizzled brunette with bushy mutton chops flanking his head. He had a prominent brow and square jaw, along with various battle scars etched across his face. He had a rolled-up paper tucked under his arm. He turned to Abner, unfurled the parchment, and started reading. "This one is guilty for the following crimes."

"Twenty-four counts of larceny," he begun.

"Twenty-four that you can prove," Abner jested.

"Three counts of impersonating an official," the guard spoke louder, trying to drown Abner out.

Abner turned to Uriko and flashed a prideful grin. "And there was actually less corruption while I was in charge!"

"One count of destroying a public art exhibit."

"I'd argue that was a public service. Cleaning up trash is a noble act, is it not?"

The guard continued to ignore him, but was clearing growing frustrated. "And one count of corruption of the lord mayor's daughter."

Abner immediately remembered her face, but could not attach a name to it. He did recall her flexibility, though. "Hey I didn't corrupt anything. That woman taught _me_ a couple of new things!" Abner protested.

The guards, however, were not amused.

"Silence, mongrel! Or I'll cut out your tongue!" A underling guard burst out and whacked the bars of the cell with his cudgel, attempting to smash Abner's fingers. Abner immediately dodged backwards, avoiding the belligerent strike. _Could've dodged that in my sleep._

The guard pulled back his club and lurched at him, attempting unsuccessfully to intimidate him.

 _Just you wait._ Abner smiled back.

"For these crimes, you have been sentenced to the stocks for a week, followed by eight years in the dungeon." The leader then turned to Uriko, and began reading off her charges. "This one is an accomplice. She is guilty of one charge of destruction of a historic landmark and inciting violence that had left to destruction of property and loss of life."

"What?!" Uriko was appalled.

"So I hereby sentence you to indentured servitude until the property damage debt has been fully paid." He finally rolled up the parchment, tossed it aside, and turned to the last two.

The plate-clad man approached the bars, and stared menacingly at the dragonborn. "As for you," he started, his voice dripping with contempt. "You are charged with willful destruction, disrupting the peace, and most egregiously, the murder of an unarmed man."

"That man was armed," Grelos retorted, finally standing up from his meditation. "We were attacked, and we simply defended ourselves."

"That man instigated the fight," Chrovan assisted, and explained further. "There were several of his goons present. Ask anyone at the tavern and they'll confirm our story."

"And you strangled him to death with your bare hands," the knight shot back to the dragonborn through gritted teeth.

Grelos flexed his knuckles, causing them to crack. "He was rabid dog. I simply put him down." He showed no remorse.

"That rabid dog," the leader spoke, his voice shaking with anger. "was my brother."

"Brother or not, he was a criminal," Chrovan countered. "As a sworn knight of Fallcrest, you are required, by law, to judge crimes based on truth and justice, not personal preference."

"Justice will be served," the leader spoke as a sadistic grin stretched across his face. "I'm going to immerse you two in a pain so excruciating, death will be considered a paradise." He gestured with a single hand to his other guards. "Take the other two away."

"You're despicable," Chrovan said condemningly. "And a disgrace to the laws you swore to uphold." He spat defiantly at the floor by the knight's feet.

"I'm going to enjoy this," the corrupt knight said, his voice brimming with malevolent anticipation. He was going to make them suffer for his own amusement.

One of the guards cautiously approached Abner's cell. "Approach the cell door, prisoner," he said as he threatened him with the studded club. The guard's partner had a crossbow aimed squarely for Abner's chest, and his finger hovered nervously over the trigger.

Abner steadily stepped forward, feigning cooperation, and held up his shackled arms in front of himself.

The guard carefully unlocked the cage doors, opened them, and reached forward to attach a chain to Abner's restraints. He then pulled forward, yanking Abner off-balance.

Abner almost fell over, but his agility allowed him to quickly correct himself. He turned to one side, and noticed that another pair of guards were approaching Uriko with a strange collar-like device.

"Don't you dare put that on me!" Uriko yelled, baring her claws and fangs at them.

"Not so tough now, are you?" The guard taunted, pulling sharply on Abner's chain once again, breaking his concentration.

The rusted metal tightened and dug into Abner's wrists, causing him to clench his teeth in pain. "These are a little tight," he let out with an exaggerated raspy voice.

"That's the point, scum," the guard snapped back and struck Abner with an open palm at the back of his head. A welt formed at the point of contact.

Abner shrugged it off. _Just a little bit more._

"Enough dawdling, move along!" A crossbowman jabbed the metal stirrup of his weapon into Abner's back, threatening him with imminent impalement.

Abner ignored him the best he could. In the background, he could hear Uriko struggling as the other two armored things wrestled with her.

The other guard pulled sharply again, further coercing Abner to move. This time, Abner resisted for a moment and pulled back.

The guard reared back and yanked tightly as the crossbowman behind him kicked Abner in the back, sending him reeling forward. Abner used the momentum to lurch forward and land face first into the dirt, with his hands tucked away under his body, by his waist. With his arms hidden from sight, he slipped out a lockpick he had concealed in his belt and began to tamper with his handcuffs.

"Get up!" The chainman walked over to Abner's body, keeping the chain taut, and continued to yank. Abner took this opportunity and sprung into action.

After hearing a satisfying click of a lock becoming undone, Abner removed both manacles simultaneously, and swiftly rose, much to the guards' surprise. He then dashed forward and slammed both metal clasps onto the chainman's wrists, securing them in place.

The guard grunted in pain as the metal clamped down on his flesh.

"What's the matter? Too tight?" Abner quipped, and crunched them down even harder to spite him.

"Stop him!" A entrapped man shouted as he struggled within his new restraints. He attempted to strike him with a club, but only managed a single floppy wide swing.

Abner intercepted the attack with ease. He then grasped the end of his foe's baton with one arm, and trapped both arms with this other arm. He swept his foot under the bewildered guard's knee and knocked him off his feet. As the man fell to floor, Abner wretched the club from his enemy's fingers. With a new weapon acquired, he dashed towards the open door.

A pair of hands seized Abner by both feet, and he crashed forward onto the floor. The recently shackled guard was annoyingly still conscious and had tripped Abner as he attempted to run past him.

Abner managed to free one foot just in time.

"Kill him!" The guarded blurted out.

Abner stomped his freed foot into the man's face, loosening some teeth and knocking him unconscious.

As Abner laid supinated on the floor, one of the crossbowmen took aim and loosed a bolt towards him.

Abner rolled to one side, and barely dodged it. The black bolt flew past Abner's arm, almost skewering it. He exclaimed in pain as the projectile grazed off a line of flesh along his tricep. As he arose from his acrobatic maneuver, he reared the club backwards. With a single decisive motion, he launched the hardened wooden stick at his foe. It sailed through the air and contacted his foe directly between the eyes. The impact knocked him backwards, causing him to drop his weapon.

"What are you idiots doing? Fucking kill him!" The knight turned his attention to Abner and assumed command of his remaining men. One of them were still pinning Uriko against the steel bars of her cage as they attempted to place the restraints around her neck.

The other crossbowman emerged from Uriko's cell and pointed his weapon at Abner. This one seemed to be a much more talented marksman; he followed Abner's movements intently with sharp and quick eyes.

Abner gulped, uncertain whether he would be lucky enough to dodge this follow-up.

To Abner's delight, Chrovan reached out of the cage, past the bars, and grabbed the knight by the gorget.

The knight let out an unintelligible sound in surprise.

The crossbowman became distracted, and he turned to investigate what had happened to his commanding officer.

Chorvan tightened his grasp, and pulled the corrupt knight face-first into the bars. His face collided noisily against the metal, causing his entire body to seize from the impact. Chrovan pushed him away and repeated the attack several more times.

During the diversion, Abner rushed into the shadows, concealed his presence, and observed the ensuing fight.

Grelos lifted his right hand into the air, as if reaching out for some unseen phantom. Like a blur, an unidentified object flew from the outside, through the open door, and the past the narrow slits of his steel cage and into his hands. Grelos was now grasping his massive clawed hand around a fearsome looking longsword.

Abner felt an excited chill run up his body. _Well done, Grelos. You've managed to impress me,_ he thought.

"Get off me!" Uriko continued to struggle with her captor. Her words were rebuked by a the guardsman's club to her midsection, but she retaliated by kneeing him in the groin.

"Put the sword down!" The crossbowman switched his attention to the now armed dragonborn. "And release Sir Gideon immediately!" He aimed the loaded crossbow at both of them. At such close range, he could not miss.

Chrovan remained expressionless as he continued to shield himself with the knight's bloodied limp body. "Let us go, and no one else has to get hurt."

"Shut your mouth, you-!" His finger grazed the sensitive trigger.

Recognizing his opening, Abner emerged from the shadows and barrelled towards the preoccupied crossbowman. He cleared the distance within seconds and slammed into the man's side, uprooting him with ease and slamming his entire frame into the ground. Abner begun struggling with the man in the dirt, while Grelos and Chrovan were still trapped inside their cells.

Abner noticed that this guard had a rings of iron keys fastened to his belt, but he could not acquire them as long as his foe continued to struggle.

The armored thug in Uriko's cell yelled out after she bit into his exposed forearm. He slapped the back of his hand against her face, knocking her down. He raised his boot and drove it into her chest, throwing her against the bars in a painful clatter.

Uriko had been stunned. She struggled to find the strength to stand.

The aggravated sentry discarded his ineffectual club and unsheathed his longsword.

Grelos responded quickly and made a strange series of symbols with his free left hand. A burst of unknown arcane energy was suddenly ejected from his body in all directions. Whatever effect it had on the two remaining guards, Abner could not tell.

Abner managed to pull off his adversary's helmet and bashed it once into his face, instantly putting him into a deep sleep. Abner panted heavily as he started towards Uriko's cell.

The swordsman positioned himself over Uriko, and begun to stab down, intent on dealing a killing blow.

 _It's too late_ , Abner thought, fearing the worst. He could not clear the distance in time to save her.

There was a sudden brilliant flash of green light. To his amazement, Grelos had somehow transported himself across the room and into Uriko's cell within a fraction of a second. Grelos then drove his sword into the guard's back. The metal point breached armor, flesh, and bone, and forced its way out the other side. The slain guard's arms went limp and released his grip on the sword, causing his last strike to stab harmlessly into the dirt beside Uriko. The dragonborn then lifted the skewered corpse off the ground, and threw it off his sword with one mighty swing.

Grelos sheathed his blade and gripped Uriko's by both of her shoulders. He then lifted her up to her feet.

She stood woozily for a moment, but eventually regained her lucidity. "What did you just do?" She said, half-awake.

"I repaid a favor," Grelos replied with an uncharacteristic slight smile. "Now, let's get out of here." He reached one arm around Uriko's body, and lifted her up slightly, helping her walk. He turned to Abner with a glare. "Find the correct key and free Chrovan from his cell. And if you try to run again, I'll cut off both of your legs."

"That seems fair," Abner muttered as he fumbled for the guard's keyring. He soon had them in his hands and started cycling through the almost identical set of black iron keys, attempting to find the correct one.

"Die, you villain!" An unexpected voice shrieked out from behind him. Startled, he accidentally dropped the ring of key. He about-faced towards the direction of the voice.

The first guard, who was still partially restrained by the chains and hand shackles, had somehow awoken, and retrieved his blade. The man's face was mashed to a pulp as he charged toward Abner with a fearsome greatsword held aloft.

Abner begun to instinctively back away, but accidentally tripped over one of the sleeping bodies, and he landed clumsily onto the ground.

The frenzied man, eyes widened and bloodshot, was now within three wide paces of him. His sword was aimed high and gleamed menacingly with the torchlight as he bellowed out an ear-piercing battle cry.

Abner frantically reached for a nearby weapon. He eventually found a wooden handle, and pulled the two-handed crossbow into his arms and secured it against his hip as he sat against the jail cell. He did not have time to aim; he simply squeezed the trigger, and the bolt flew from its housing.

The bolt stuck the center of the berserker's throat and buried itself up to the fletching. The grey iron point pierced all the way out the other side, tearing flesh and releasing a spray of warm red liquid across Abner's face. The attacker's voice garbled as his mouth filled up with blood. He seemed to reach for Abner as he approached, his sword hand still held high.

Abner began to retreat, feeling disheartened by the gruesome sight. He could not move backwards any farther, as his back was already flush against the jail cell behind him.

The swordsman gagged disgustingly through tightly clenched, red-soaked teeth as he willed himself with sheer malice to grab Abner's face by the cheeks, pressing the back of his head painfully against the rough steel. He then brought his sword it down upon Abner's unprotected head.

The sword narrowly missed its mark and was caught between two adjacent bars of the cage, mere inches away from Abner's face. The berserker let out one final spew of crimson from his mouth, his eyes glazed over, and he slumped over to Abner's side before dying outright.

Abner remained motionless for a few seconds, in shock. Blood from the slain guard dripped down from his sweat-soaked forehead.

Grelos assisted Uriko as the two walked over to Abner's side. "Abner!" Grelos shouted, jolting him out of shock.

Abner turned to face Grelos, still partially stunned.

"Find the key and get Chrovan out of there!" The surly dragonborn barked.

"Yes, of course!" Abner stammered as he resumed his search. After testing a few against the lock, he eventually found the correct key and the cell doors swung open.

Chrovan emerged, and his eyes locked with Abner's. They appeared to be sympathetic, for once, which was disconcerting. "Was that the first man you've ever killed?" Chrovan asked, almost sounding genuinely concerned.

Abner remained silent for a moment as he stared down at the twitching corpse. He felt a slight tingle in his chest as the numbness in his hands slowly disappeared. "No," he replied coldly. "He wasn't."

"Very well, then," Chrovan said as walked past him. "We should leave this town at once. Others will be here soon," he spoke to Grelos.

"Agreed," Abner began leading the group out the only exit.

"I wasn't talking to you," Chrovan shot back. "We don't work with thieves."

"I may be a thief. But that means one thing: I'm good at being unseen," Abner reasoned. "If you want to get out of here alive, you're gonna need my help."

"I don't trust you," Chrovan bluntly said.

"What other options do you have?"

Chrovan looked away from him, appearing disgusted at the sight of him.

"Do you want to get your stuff back, or not?" Abner asked, twirling the ring of keys on a single finger.

Chrovan and Grelos exchanged a pained look and begrudging turned towards Abner.

"Lead the way," Chrovan strained out.

Abner smiled. "Stick to the shadows, and follow me."


	4. The Unknown

Karus reached forward and pushed aside the leaf-covered branch that blocked his sight of the forest ahead and continued searching for the road. Unfortunately, he miscalculated the length of the nearby limb, and it slipped from his grasp, suddenly smacking him in the face with a fan of green.

"I keep telling you: you're going the wrong way," Kaiba insisted as his incorporeal form spread across the earth like a cosmic liquid. Within the miasma of flowing white spiritual energy, there was a regal white wolf with blue stripes on its fur. "Admit it; you've gotten us lost again." He continued to follow alongside Karus, phasing through and around obstacles with ease.

"Shut up, I know where I'm going." Karus barked back in aggravation. He shook his entire body and jostled loose all the foliage he had accumulated on his robes and in his thick bushy hair. He pushed further onward, occasionally stopping to survey the environment with his sharpened lupine sense of smell, sight, and sound. The refreshing scent of pine filled the air and intermingled with the upward-wafting smell of wet earth from recent rainfall. But the unusual stillness and silence of the forest was making him uneasy. Unable to acquired his bearings, Karus continued to wander aimlessly through the woods.

"Are you sure?" Kaiba challenged him. "Last time I let you take point we wound up in the Shakrai Forest fighting assassin vines. Then there was the incident in the frost ogre cavern. And should I remind you about the other time we were 'taking a shortcut' through an active volcano that you just happened to overlook?" He smugly listed out all of Karus' past navigational follies.

Karus attempted to ignore his companion's constant griping. "I thought spirits were supposed to be stoic and wise. All you've been is a pain in my ass."

"Spirits are neutral in the affairs of this world. But that doesn't mean we don't have opinions," Kaiba explained. "You still have much to learn about our ways."

"Perhaps you could actually teach me something practical then, instead of always sermonizing," Karus quipped back. "All you ever do is yap away about how I should-" Karus scrunched his face up and made his voice raspy. "Let your instincts guide your actions." His voice returned to normal. "Well, my instincts are telling me that the main road is this way, through my shortcut."

"Whatever you say," Kaiba said as he sauntered ahead.

Karus eventually stopped to rest his aching feet. He noticed that his hemp sandals had become worn and frayed from the journey, and would need to be replaced soon. He partook in some dried fruits and hardtack, the latter of which had absorbed some of the surrounding moisture and had become stale. It was getting darker; the waning sunlight was becoming further obstructed by the dense treeline, and once it became dark he would have to sleep outdoors, again. The idea was unfavorable, but nothing he couldn't handle. He gathered his belongings and prepared to venture forth again.

Without warning, a sudden searing pain ran across his chest and his entire body involuntarily seized. He lost his footing and dropped to one knee as one hand braced himself with the staff and the other grasped his heart. Karus' breathing became erratic as his heartbeat raced, like it was about to burst.

Kaiba rushed to Karus' side. "What's going on?" The spirit wolf asked, concerned.

Karus did not answer. He simply shut his eyes and took slow, deep breaths to calm himself. It felt like a white-hold blade was being drawn across his chest, and he clenched his jaw to hold back the urge to cry out in agony. Thankfully, the sensation eventually subsided, and Karus slumped back onto the moss-covered roots of a nearby tree, panting heavily. He wiped the icy sweat off his soaked brow.

"It still hurts, doesn't it?" Kaiba asked, his voice filled with concern.

Karus nodded solemnly as he finally caught his breath. He swallowed the dry lump in his throat. "It makes no sense. It's been years since that day. Why does it sometimes feel like it happened to me yesterday?" Karus shuddered at the memory of the sword and how it carved through his flesh like a knife across paper. For a moment, he could almost hear the screaming. _That horrible, endless wailing. It hurts so much. Make it stop,_ they cried out to him as they dug into his skin with their flailing pale hands. The unexplained horrors that plagued his mind were sometimes so overwhelming that he felt that he would lose his mind, if it weren't for his companion. "I can't do this anymore, Kaiba," he sighed, feeling defeated. "I can't handle it."

"Yes we can." Kaiba never allowed him to despair. "As long as we work together, we can find it, and defeat it. And you'll be free." The wolf spoke confidently with unmoving lips.

"But we don't even know what _it_ is," Karus spoke back. "Or why it happened."

"Whatever happened that day was beyond even my understanding of this world. It was the hand of a force more powerful and horrific than anything I have encountered in my millennia of walking the spirit world." For once, Kaiba showed something that Karus seldom saw: uncertainty. But despite not knowing, he was still wise and optimistic. "You were lucky to have survived it."

"Thanks to you," Karus remarked with a half smile twisted by lingering pain. There was not a single day that he was ungrateful of Kaiba; without the spirit wolf's intervention, he would've died along with all of his tribe.

"I had a debt to pay as well, my friend," Kaiba responded. He pointed his pointed snout in an arbitrary direction, which lead beyond the brush. "Now let's get you somewhere where you can rest. It's almost dark."

Karus prepared to rise, but felt something amiss in the aether. "Wait, I sense something," he beckoned Kaiba to give him a moment's peace. He then adjusted his seating to a meditative position, shut his eye. _Spirits, I feel your presence. Guide me._

Upon opening his eyes, he beheld a remarkable sight. Countless spirits, humanoid and animal-like and appearance, were strewn about the landscape, communing amongst one another and interacting with the environment. The physical world was barely affected by their actions, but he could feel their influence as if they were corporeal. Their actions manifested in subtle phenomenon such as the direction of the winds, the shifting of leaves, and the flow of water. He called out to them, hoping for them to share with him their wisdom. "Spirits! I need a way to Fallcrest! Would one of kindly show me where to go?"

Most of the other beings ignored his words, save for a small white cat with large yellow slit eyes. Without speaking, it pointed with a single paw towards a distant clearing.

Karus paced towards the clearing and peered further down the way, focusing his sight. To his amazement, he could see the distant movement of humanoid figures beyond the veil of the forest. "I see it!" He declared in relief. "Thank you, kind spirit!" He spun back towards the cat, and to his surprise, it had vanished. All the other spirits had also vacated the vicinity. He and Kaiba were alone again in the forest under the dim twilight.

"Where did they go?" Karus asked his companion.

"I'm not sure," Kaiba replied. "They just ran off. Like something had spooked them."

"Makes sense. There's nothing more terrifying than your ugly mug." Karus laughed as he continued making his way towards the Kingsroad.

Kaiba growled at him the rest of the way.

After finding the main road, Karus traveled the road with his spirit wolf companion and eventually arrived at the town. Karus looked up and beheld a chipped and sun-bleached sign that read " Town of Fallcrest." _Finally,_ he thought, as he took several confident strides past the large wooden gate. He salivated at the thought of a hot meal and a warm room to relax his travel-addled body. He leaned on his staff to offer some respite to his feet, which had gone sore from the long and difficult journey. As he stood there, Karus scanned his head side to side, taking in his surroundings.

The twilight had etched a beautiful red and orange painting across the horizon. There were still some people scattered about and moving up and down along the main road. The ones whom drew close to him immediately adjusted their path to keep their distance.

"The people here are rather unfriendly," Karus remarked telepathically to his companion.

Kaiba's ethereal form continued to flow around him as like a white spectre. Ghostly tendrils extended from his form and were moved around by the gentle shifting breeze. "I don't think they're used to seeing physically manifested spirits," Kaiba explained. "Perhaps it would be best if I removed myself for now."

The other townsfolk were speaking in hushed tones as they huddled into small groups and stared at him. "You're probably right." Karus agreed as he covered the more wolf-like parts of his body with his cloak.

"Very well, I'll see you soon, friend," Kaiba spoke as he disappeared into the aether.

Karus approached the nearest resident who was not actively judging or avoiding him.

There was a short person propped up on a step-stool beside a booth with a blue and white canopy. She appeared to be untying some ropes as she prepared to close her shop for the night.

"Pardon me, miss!" He awkwardly beckoned to her.

She turned to face him. She was a middle-aged dwarf with auburn hair twisted into elaborate braids segmented with green beads. "Aye, ya called?" She spoke in a heavy dwarven accent. She made a confused face as she looked up and down Karus' body. "What can I do for ya, furry man?"

 _Well that's new._ Karus frowned. _Never been called that before._ He faked a smile and started, "Hello, miss. I'm new to this town, and I would like to find a place to sleep for the night. Could you please point me towards the nearest inn?"

"Yah, you're looking for the River Rat Tavern," she started. "It's the oldest establishment in the town; it's been around for over three hundred years."

"Sounds good to me! Where is it?"

The woman scratched her stubble-covered chin as she took a moment to think. "It's not far from here. Just stay on the main road towards the west. It's a two-story building with a green sign. It'll be on the right side of the road, across from the apothecary. You can't miss it!"

"Thanks, ma'am," Karus said with a kind nod. "Have a nice night." He began to walk in the direction she pointed.

"No problem, furry man!"

Karus shuddered at the comment. _Just let it go._

After walking on the main road for a few more minutes, he spotted the apothecary on the left side. And as directed, the inn was located on the right side. He could hear some indistinct commotion from inside, probably from drunk patrons enjoying their night. He started walking towards the entrance, just after a group of eight unruly fellows loudly knocked open the door and entered.

 _So much noise,_ Karus thought, slightly irked. _But it beats sleeping in the cold._ His mind continued to wander as he continued to be distracted by the indistinct sounds and motions of the surrounding city.

Karus reached for the handle on the swinging door.

Before he could react, he felt a jolt of energy surging across his entire body. He watched as an arc of lightning flew from the handle and into his arm, singeing fur and clothing. The force lifted him off the ground, and a subsequent brilliant blast of blue-streaked energy knocked him backwards, sending him careening through the air. The world appeared to slow as he spun once mid-flight, before coming face-to-face into a nearby wooden obstacle. Finally, with a sudden and concussive impact, everything went black.

Karus opened his eyes and blinded rapidly, clearing away his blurry vision. He stood up swiftly, his heart still pounding from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He whipped his head around, searching for another soul to question, but the area was mysteriously empty.

There was a broken fruit cart beside where he was standing. Wooden shards stained with sticky fruit chunks and juice peppered the landscape and the ground beneath his feet. He turned back towards the tavern, and realized that the front half had been entirely obliterated.

There was a gaping hole where the tavern's front entrance would have been. The support structures that once held a door erect were now hanging precariously from the torn ceiling as countless pieces of broken wood and glass littered the earth. He stepped into the establishment, continuing his search for another soul to question.

"Hello?" Karus timidly called out into the void. No one answered his call.

The room appeared to be entirely deserted; there were still lit lamps, strewn about papers, miscellaneous furniture, and scattered bottles filling the area, but it was entirely unpopulated.

Karus poked his head back outside and called out again down the empty road. "Hello?!" Karus yelled this time. "Is there anybody out there?!" The eerie silence was starting to unsettle him. Karus started his trek deeper into the city. His sandaled feet glided across the ground as he ran about the empty town, searching for someone to talk to. Unfortunately, several long minutes of meticulous searching had proved fruitless.

Frustrated, Karus attempted to reach beyond the mortal plane as well. He shut his eyes tightly and attempted to beckon the spirits to his side. "Spirits," he began. "If you are present, let me know. Give me a sign." He held his hand aloft, gesturing anything to make contact with him.

A few moments of dead silence passed, only momentarily interrupted by the gentle whistling wind.

 _Nothing,_ he thought. _Just silence._ This troubled him deeply.

The spirit realm was always teeming with activity, no matter where Karus was. Whether he was in the darkest of caves, the largest of cities, or the coldest of tundras, there was always a spirit that stood vigil over the land. He could always find one if he looked hard enough. The primal spirits had claimed dominion of the realm from the gods and primordials since time immemorial, and they would always make their presence known as a reminder. However, for the first time in years, he was alone.

Karus' sensitive nose caught a familiar scent, and an involuntary tremor ran across his entire body. _That scent,_ he thought, as doubt and fear began fester in his mind. The air, once temperate and calming, had become cold and imposing. It felt like a thousand eyes were staring at him all at once, but he could not see them.

In a panic, Karus dashed further along the road, looking down each alleyway in an attempt to find the source of his nearly unbearable unease. As he passed one darkened corridor, he beheld the silhouette of a single solitary figure.

Karus stopped at the entrance to the alleyway. He realized that the ground had become shrouded in a dense fog that clung to his ankles. The air had also become nearly frigid, and he could now see his breath forming white puffs of vapor in front of his face with each exhale.

"Excuse me? Could you please help me, sir?" He called out the lone figure. "Or madam?"

The shadow did not stir or respond.

Karus took a few hesitant steps forward and called out again. "Pardon me, but I've been unable to find anyone here."

The figure continued to ignore him.

As Karus approached, he could make out more features of the stranger. It had a bulky muscular build with broad shoulders and a hunched over neck. It also sported two canine-like ears that poked out the top of its head, along with black fur covering a majority of its body. Upon further inspection it appeared as if there was almost a mane-like formation around head.

 _Another longtooth?_ Karus thought, feeling relieved. He was almost within arms reach on the other, and had a hand outstretched to touch his shoulder.. "Excuse me, friend! Would you kindly-" His voice was cut off when he heard a strange, yet familiar crack at his feet.

Karus looked down, but could not see what it was through the now knee-deep soup-like fog. His footing was uneven, as if there was very uneven terrain underneath both of his feet. He could feel that the ground was covered with strangely shaped brittle rocks. He dug both feet into the dirt, breaking apart the underfoot stones and securing his footing.

"My name is Karus," he continued. "I'm-"

The individual twitched violently to one side, contorting their frame. The person simultaneously let out a guttural hacking sound from their throat, cutting off Karus' attempts at starting a conversation. "I know who you are, Karus." The male voice held the last syllable, stretching it like a serpent's hiss as the body slowly turned to face him.

Karus took a step back when he realized how familiar the voice was. "No," he muttered under his breath. His nose recognized the scent again, and his heart began to race. "That's impossible," Karus stuttered.

The man was now directly facing Karus. It was another longtooth shifter with dark black fur with blue stripes. He had a strong imposing jaw with a prominent underbite. His chest was large and jutted out considerably, and was positioned above well-sculpted abdominal muscles and strong, thick legs. But most disturbingly, his entire body was etched with gaping slash wounds, which profusely dripped blood. "Little pup," he hacked out of a blood-filled, drooling, and twitching mouth.

Tears welled up in Karus' eyes as he stumbled backwards. His heel caught an indiscernible mound on the floor. causing him to trip backwards. He landed on his backside against a pile of crackling and oddly shaped rocks, and his hand brushed up against something round.

His fall parted the mist around where he lay, and he let out a horrified gasp at what he beheld. He had accidentally grasped a decapitated skull, and he jerked his hand off in disgust. As he struggled in the dirt, he realized that the difficult terrain surrounding him was not stone, but a endless pile of broken bones and shredded viscera with no end in sight. Karus stammered in abject horror as he attempted to stand back up, but his foot slid over something sticky and he collapsed back into the carpet of gore.

Karus gasped and turned away from the horrific sight, but the empty town that had previously surrounded him had long since peeled away to reveal a fiery inferno. Countless others were running about, backed with a horrific symphony of screams and rendered flesh as the smell of smoke and blood steeped the air. The shadowing figure remained. With jerky and erratic motions, he continued to advance upon him.

Karus clumsily clawed at the ground, which had gone damp with blood, as he pathetically scurried away from his imposing foe. His arms and legs grew numb as the sheer terror took him.

The demonic shifter took several wide and heavy strides closer to the helpless Karus. He reached to his hip and pulled out a massive longsword with a bone hilt. The steel flashed brilliantly as it reflected the dancing light of the blaze around them. He brandished it at Karus, and reared it back for a powerful swing with a two-handed grip.

"Tor, please! Dont!" Karus held out a single mud-covered hand in protest.

His foe unleashed a single wide swing of his sword. It cut deep across Karus' chest, parting flesh, splintering bone, and finally releasing a torrent of blood.

Karus sprung forth from the ground, screaming loudly. He instinctively clutched the scar at his chest, which had started to ache again. His hands landed upon a gauntleted fist.

"Calm down, sir!" A feminine voice commanded as a second pair of armored hands secured him by the shoulders and prevented him from struggling further.

"Where am I?" Karus stuttered between erratic breaths. In his disoriented vision he could make out the figure of an plate armor-clad knight and several other similarly outfitted figures moving all around him. There was a symbol of an orange and yellow sun emblazoned on her breastplate. Her helm was removed, and she had dark olive skin with bushy, black hair that had been tied up behind her head with a red band.

"You're in Fallcrest, of course. In the infirmary," the woman continued, slightly echoing in Karu's head.

"What happened?" Karus slurred. He noticed that there were several other humanoid figures moving about, healing and tending to the sick and wounded around him. He was lying on one of the many white linen-lined beds that were arranged in a grid-like pattern all across the room.

"There was an explosion," the female spoke again, as Karus' vision cleared and the spinning gradually slowed. "Some outlaws were fighting, and you got caught in the crossfire."

Karus' chest felt warm, and the pain in his scar eventually subsided. He patted the rest of the front of his body, to make sure that he wasn't horribly injured anywhere else.

"You're going to be fine; I was healing you," she explained herself. "Please don't make any sudden movements." With one hand gently grasping his back and her other still on his chest, the paladin helped him to an upright position.

Karus instinctively grasped the back of his head, which had a massive welt from the impact. He groaned as he rubbed the tender flesh.

The paladin then stood up and moved along to helping the others whom were injured.

As Karus fully regained his senses, he slowly sat up off of his bed. He continued to rub his aching head in an vain attempt to alleviate his splitting headache. Seeking solace from commotion around him, he slung his traveling bag over his shoulder, and began shambling towards the exit.

As he opened the door, his eyes were greeted by a blinding light, causing him to shield his eyes. His weakened sight eventually adjusted to the daylight, but it also only further exacerbated his headache.

Karus slumped against a vacated nearby bench and began rubbing both sides of his head, focusing on the temples. His belly grumbled loudly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten single the previous day. He retrieved a waterskin and took a few greedy gulps of water before he started snacking on some trail rations. He nervously chewed the treated dried meat and stale bread as he attempted to make sense of his terrible dream.

Needing a friendly and understanding person to converse with, he decided to summon his companion yet again. "Kaiba, appear," He spoke aloud.

Tendrils of white ethereal energy seemingly flowed from the earth and were carried by unknown forces into a single spot near his feet. The white spirit energy swirled around and formed the shape of a large wolf. Kaiba was now sitting upright in front of him.

"Hello, Karus," Kaiba greeted him. His companion took a moment to inspect him. "What happened to you?"

"Someone," Karus started. "No, something attacked me." He groaned as he rubbed his sore spots. "Blew up the tavern too."

"That's most unfortunate," the ghostly wolf said apathetically. "Perhaps you should find a different establishment and rest there?" He suggested.

"No," Karus snapped back, still reeling from the horrific hallucination. The vision had been burned into his mind's eye, and he could see shadows of the event whenever he shut his eyes for too long. "I'm sorry, I just-" He paused to compose himself, and wipe a patch of cold sweat off of his head.

"What's wrong?" Kaiba prodded.

"I don't think I can find any sleep here," Karus admitted. "Besides, I've rested enough." He shielded his eyes as he discerned the location of the sun. "It's almost noon anyways." He stood up, and begun to gather his belongings. "Looks like it's a good thing I got knocked unconscious, huh?" He strained out in an attempt to jest.

Kaiba was not amused. "Karus," he spoke with a more commanding tone. "Did you see Tor again?" He asked.

"Yes," Karus solemnly spoke as he turned around to face Kaiba.

"What did he say to you?" Kaiba asked.

"He never asks me anything," Karus said as he secured the last of his travelling gear. "The dream always ends the same way." He placed a single hand on his chest and began to rub the scar.

"I feel a great unease, as well," Kaiba confessed. "The spirits have gone silent here," he explained to Karus. "It's as if something is causing them to flee the area. I have walked the spirit world in this land for the past several hours, and I have been unable to find a single one." His tone had become more tense than his usual wise and stoic self. "There is only an unending silence. And I fear that it may be the hand of something other. Something sinister and elusive. We must remain cautious."

Karus felt the fur on his tail rise up in response to his companions foreboding words. After some contemplation, he arrived at a decision. "I want to go back there one more time."

"Where?"

"The place I last saw him," Karus continued. "Maybe there will be some other clues there." Karus stood up, staff grasped tightly in his right hand. " Let us discover what has caused even the spirits to fear and avoid this town."

"Very well," Kaiba replied with an eager toothy smile.

The pair traversed the sprawling and bustling town side-by-side for a few hours. Karus was unfamiliar with the town's layout, so it took him some time and a number of wrong turns before he arrived at the mysterious alleyway once more. He barely recognized the area, but managed to mentally align the two surrounding buildings. The alleyway was vacant, save for a pile of dried logs left in a pile for later use.

Karus and Kaiba hesitantly strode forth into the corridor, searching for more clues. Kaiba started sniffing the immediate vicinity. His nose began to track something, and he eventually led them both to the a dead end. They eventually arrived at a grated iron grate, which presumably led further into the underground sewer system.

Kaiba began to sway side-to-side as he stood on all fours. "I can sense something," Kaiba strained out as he attempted to maintain his focus. "Something down there-" His sentences had become fragmented and jolting. "It's hurting. So alone." He quickly opened his eyes and shook once, limbering up his body once more. "We should investigate further."

"I'd rather not go down there," Karus protested. He plugged his nose with a free hand, which had started to twitch from the unpleasant smell.

"Well, we won't get any more answers just waiting here." Kaiba reasoned.

 _Why me?_ Spiritual business had always led Karus into all kinds of trouble, and today things were no different. He begrudgingly tied up the loose parts of his robe, to prevent them from tracking too much on the filth-covered floor. He also placed some herbal ointment around his nose to prevent the smell from outright debilitating him. And with an ignited duskstone in hand, Karus begun his trek into the depths.

Karus could only hear the distant rhythmic tapping of falling water, intercut with his slow damp footsteps as he descended further into the abyss. He stopped for a moment, and tried calling out again. _Spirits, I need further guidance._ _Give me a sign._

"I already told you." Kaiba spoke up and broke his concentration. "There are none left; they've all been drawn away somewhere."

"Then what are we even doing here?!" Karus blurted out in frustration.

"Calm yourself, Karus," Kaiba reprimanded him. "You wanted to be a spirit walker? This is what it takes. Not all of us are cooperative. Some are scared, angry, and violent. I myself have roamed this plane for several millennia, and yet there are still phenomena I have yet to understand."

Karus took a deep breath to calm himself. "I'm sorry. I still a little rattled from before." The same fear had begun to accumulate in the back of his mind again, and was only be exacerbated by the darkness. His mind was beginning to play tricks on him, as each unidentified sound sent an instinctual tremor up his body, and every dancing shadow momentarily looked like a foe.

"We're in this together, friend," Kaiba reassured him. "Until the end."

Comforted by his companion's sincere words, Karus trudged onward. Eventually, the singular pathway branched out into several divergent paths, each one less appealing than the next.. Karus peered down one way, and didn't see anything. He shone his dull light into another path, and couldn't perceive what was beyond. Finally, he stopped in front of the last entrance on the right side of the room. Instead of looking with his eyes, he shut them and embraced the darkness. He lifted his nose into the air and inhaled deeply.

"There's something down here," Karus declared, tightly gripping his oak staff. He placed one hand against the moist stone wall as a safeguard. He then took a single cautious step into the void, blinking rapidly in an attempt to get his vision to adjust sooner. He could see the path descending further into the unknown, which disheartened him greatly. He gripped his free hand against the scar on his chest, which had started to ache again.

"I do not know what lies beyond this darkness," Karus replied, not breaking his stare with the void. "But my heart tells me that the answers I've been searching for are further down this way."

"Then, what are we waiting for?" Kaiba nudged Karus by the hip and pushed him forward. "We mustn't delay."

The two started their descent down deeper into the shadowy tunnel. The walls appeared to narrow as they moved, and the air grew hotter and more close.

After a few moments of wandering in the abyss, Karus' nose beheld an abhorrent rotting scent and he let out a loud gag. He raised his cloak's sleeve up to his face in an attempt to stifle the smell. The nauseating aroma was like carrion and ashes intermingled to form a suffocating miasma. He continued to push on, but the pressure was getting worse. By now, he felt stinging sensation up as the toxic air caused his eyes to water.

"Should we turn back?" Kaiba asked.

"No!" Karus immediately replied. "I need to know!" He continued trudging on, keeping one hand outstretched in preparation for any unwelcome surprises.

Unexpectedly, Karus snagged something against his foot, which caused him to stumble. He quickly caught himself before he handed with his outstretched hands, and turned to face whatever he had tripped on. He aimed the duskstone closer in order to see better.

There appeared to be a single humanoid being lying facedown in the dirt. Their physical features were obscured by a pitch black robe with red thread embellishments. The patterns sewn into the cloth were unlike any history symbol or religion drawing he had ever seen before. They appeared to shift and flow like blood across the surface of the cloak. The only parts exposed were the being's long, greyed-out hair, and their withered, pale, and wrinkled hands. There also appeared to be an ornate dagger clutched tightly in the right hand. The ground underneath him was a darker tone than the rest of the floor. Then Karus realised that it was all dried up blood.

"He must've been dead for days," Karus concluded as he knelt over the corpse."We'll, that explains the smell," he strained through the cloth barrier. He continued to inspect the body, to see if you could find any more clues. He inspected the dagger, which was somehow still tightly secured within the dead person's vice-like hand. Karus jerked it sharply to one side with a grunt of effort, freeing it from its prison. He held it closer to his hand for a closer look.

The knife was a thing of macabre beautify. Its blade was dark grey steel with fine, silvery ripples that flowed like along the length of the metal. The edge was strangely dulled; it could not cut a piece of fruit cleanly, let alone injure another fellow. The hilt and handle was a gnarly piece constructed from what appeared to be massive black bones. There was also a large ruby inset in the knife's pommel.

Karus held the knife up to his ally. "Do you know any cults or religions groups that use a ceremonial dagger like this?" He asked his wise and faithful companion.

"I've seen many things in my long time in this world," Kaiba started his usual sermon, but thankfully was brief this time around. "But this, my friend, is new."

 _What in the Nine Hells can this mean?_ Karus frowned as he continued to investigate the carcass. He pocketed the strange item, keeping one hand tightly pressed against his face so he could still breathe slightly easier. He then turned it over, in hopes of acquiring some form of identification.

The body rolled over, and Karus beheld a horrific sight. The person's entire chest cavity was wide open like a canyon, as if it had been cracked open by some unknown feral beast. Most of his organs had been removed , and all that remained was a hollow shell of bone and leftover connective tissue. His eyes had been entirely gouged out, leaving gory red pools in their place. And most disturbingly, the being's face had no mouth, only a single unbroken layer of skin that stretched from his square jaw upward to the bridge of his nose.

Karus exclaimed in fright as he retreated back. The smell had become overwhelming. Karus struggled to hold the food in his belly back as he stumbled away from the grisly scene. He searched earnestly for a path out, but he had lost himself in the darkness. After stumbling in the black for a few excruciating seconds, Karus could see a tiny mote of light in the distance. The path aimed upwards, and the ground was slippery and wet from the moisture in the air. With no other available options, Karus broken into a sprint towards the beacon, and Kaiba followed suit.

Karus' heart pounded in his ears as his furry, sandal-covered feet rapidly propelled him forward. _Don't look back,_ he thought, still feeling the chill all along his entire body. He had seen countless dead bodies before, and he had seen what horrors people were capable of doing to one another, but this time it was different. In all his years as a shaman, he had never seen something so sadistic. His blood ran cold at the thought of having encountered the work of a force he could not comprehend. He continued to run with all the strength and speed he could muster, towards the light at the end of the tunnel.

The light grew larger and larger as he approached. On the other side, he could see cut stone and carved wooden structures. _The surface!_ He thought has gave his aching legs one more push. It felt like the darkness around him was closing in on him, which only quickened his frantic steps.

Karus finally emerged from the tunnel. He was suddenly and violently tackled by a previously unseen assailant. The abrupt concussive force stunned and uprooted him. He then tumbled to the side, entwined with the other, and rolled painfully until they both landed in a heap.

Karus blinked the dancing stars from his vision away and saw a young woman straddling him. She had soft peach-colored skin along with light brown fur with black stripes. Her head was topped with long, flowing auburn hair, which buried two cat-like ears. It was another shifter, but of the razorclaw variety.

"Ow," she groaned loudly as she rubbed her head painfully. She clumsily reached for a firm spot on the ground to help herself up, but accidentally pinned Karus to the floor as she stood up. Once she realized what she had done, she knelt back down to help him.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't see you!" She said, flustered, as she helped him to his feet. "Are you okay?"

Karus shook his head once, clearing the discombobulation. "Yeah, I'm fine. Where-?"

"Uriko!" A young man's voice called out from out of sight.

Karus took a half second to search his immediate surroundings for the source of the voice. Surprising, there appeared to be stone corridors in every direction he could see. The walls were lit by oil lamps that were suspended from the ceiling with chains. He could hear the rapid pitter-patter of approaching footsteps. From the look of the jerky shadows, he could tell that two others were coming.

"Uriko?" Karus turned to woman and addressed her. "You're name's Uriko?"

"Yeah," she spoke quickly, as if under duress. "I'm sorry, but we really don't have time for introductions right now," she said. "If I were you, I would run."

A youthful looking half-elf and a burly dragonborn simultaneously turned the nearest corner. They both skidded for a moment on the slick rock, almost falling over. They adjusted their direction and continued barrelling down the walkway.

"Keep running! You too, if you wanna live!" The half-elf barked a command.

The woman addressed at Uriko joined the other two, and the two scurried down the stone corridor into the unknown.

Karus called back to them. "Hey! Where am I?" He turned back to inspect the hole he just crawled out from. And to his amazement, it had vanished. The tunnel had somehow been sealed by a wall of laid stone brick, as if it never existed in the first place. _Now that's just weird._ Karus thought as he stared at the wall in disbelief.

Another set of feet, this time covered with metal-tipped boots clattered over to the scene. An armor-clad stranger seized him by the arm and began dragging him towards the direction of the other three. "What are you waiting for?! Run!" He spoke with an authoritative voice that echoed throughout the chamber.

Karus instinctively broke into another full sprint, despite being exhausted from his earlier expedition. It was as if the man's words had magically inspired his body to recover. "Why?!" He shouted, confused. "What are we running from?!"

After some time passed, the two reunited with the three from earlier. They had reached a fork in the corridor, and they stood there, frantically trying to decipher some text that had been sprawled across the wall.

"It's coming," the half-elf said as he nudged the shifter. "What does it say? Which way do we go?!" He fidgeted nervously as he asked.

"You're not helping!" She roared back. She had a red tome in one hand, and seemed to be attempting to translate the faded and chipped hieroglyphs on the wall.

Karus looked behind them, back to the stone corridor. Strangely enough, the hallway now stretched backward into what appeared to be a darkness. _Weren't there torches lit where we came from?_ This seemed strange and inconsistent. He peered deeper into the veil of shadows.

Another of the torches in the hall appeared to spontaneously extinguish itself. And then another adjacent torche followed suit. And another went out.

Karus squinted, trying to see better. His eyes widened in terror when he gazed upon what was lurking behind them

It was impossible to ascertain exactly what it was, but it was a abominable apparatition. It floated above the ground like an ominous wisp of cloud. It had a massive fang-filled smile, which stretched from ear to ear, and it bore two glowing red eyes with pupils as black as ink. Two abnormally lengthy arms white arms tipped with massive clawed hands clung to its sides. It scrapped one claw against the rock, etching a deep gash into the solid stone and emitting a grating screeching noise as it moved.

"What the hell is that thing?!" Karus blurted out.

"I don't know! Why don't you ask it?!" The half-elf snapped sarcastically.

"Enough of this! Move aside!" The warrior pushed the group aside, including the shifter from before, and quickly poured over over the strange markings on the wall. He muttered something to himself as he calmly deciphered the complex language in his head. He then turned to the others and spoke loudly, "We go right!"

"How do you know?" The dragonborn questioned him.

The warrior responded sarcastically . "Because I read it, obviously! Interestingly, this is an ancient extinct dialect of Dwarven from over… well that's not important now. The instructions clearly say that the exit is to the right and it details how to avoid the numerous traps! Now go!" He began marching in the direction he pointed.

The lights closest to the group went out in a puff of white smoke. The creature shambled ever closer.

The group all looked at each other, exchanged a single awkward glance, and charged after the fighter.

After some time running as a unit, the warrior yelled out a single thunderous command. "Drop!"

The entire group heeded his advice and immediately fell prone.

A massive scything blade emerged from the wall in front of them and flew towards them with blinding speed.

Karus felt a sharp wind rush past him. Some minute hairs from his tail flew off in the updraft as he narrowly avoided the steel juggernaut. It retracted back into the wall after it finished its first pass.

"Keep going!" The warrior ordered. He continued their advance and they group followed his lead. He kept whipping his head side to side, as if searching for something. Once he appeared to have found it, he called out. "Hug the walls!"

Everyone obeyed they leaned up against the stone walls, laying as flush as possible.

Without warning, the ceiling parted lengthwise and released a blood-crusted pendulum. It sliced through the air, but everyone in the party had successfully dodged it.

They finally finished the run and stopped in the middle of a continuous corridor.

The swordsman knelt down and inspected a large glyph that had been inscribed on a large tile on the floor.

"Now, what?" The dragonborn asked.

"We wait." the human said confidently.

"Wait for what?" The half-elf asked with a look of concern.

"That thing is still behind us,"

The warrior ignored the question and began mouthing some words.

Karus looked back into the approaching darkness. He could hear an inhuman shriek from beyond the void as the lights continued to flicker out. The creature floated closer towards them with gleaming eyes and a quivering mouth, as if it were savoring the thought of the meal to come. Karus tightened his grip on the staff, preparing for battle.

The malicious spectre was now in reach of the motionless group. The very air around them went cold as ice, and stung to breathe. The apparition reared back a ghostly claw and let out an ear-piercing scream as it attacked the party.

Without warning, the floor collapsed , like a hidden trapdoor. The party suddenly fell several feet into darkness. Karus attempted to grab anything he could, but there was nothing in the dark. Time seemed to slow as they fell. and after what felt like several minutes worth of free fall, Karus felt an abrupt rush of cold liquid engulfing his entire body, causing his body to spasm in shock. The rushing current of the water around him pushed him an in unknown direction. Various unseen obstacles of hard rock battered his body as he tumbled in the torrent. Karus felt the painful stinging sensation of water rushing up his nostrils. He desperately flailed his arms in an attempt to find something to stabilize himself. but to no avail. He felt the throbbing sensation in his chest as he was almost out of breath. If there was no end to this river, he would surely drown.

Serendipitously, the darkness finally gave way to light and Karus felt the sensation of falling yet again. He plunged into deep water again and tumbled over once, but thankfully this time the water was calm, and he was able to recover and swim the surface. He gasped loudly as he broke the water's surface. He then frantically paddled to the nearby shore. Once his body was out of the river, he collapsed face down onto the mud and stone covered bank. Cold river water cascaded from his soaked fur and robes as he laid there, attempting to catch his breath and coughing up whatever he accidentally inhaled.

He could hear others around him, also coughing and dripping water onto the nearby rocks. He looked up to survey his surroundings once more.

The half-elf had already crawled to the shore, but was situated on the other end of the river. He sat on the remnants of a demolished stone barricade, pulled off his shoe, inverted it, and released some water that had filled it. The chainmail-clad warrior was laying on his back beside Karus, also gasping for air. Karus heard another loud splash hit the river, and watched as the dragonborn from before resurfaced and hastily exited the stream. But the tiger-like female shifter was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's the other one? Where's Uriko?" He asked, full of instinctive concern for a member of his kin. Karus flinched as a large brown otter with black stripes beached itself beside him. The creature shook itself several times, like a cat, until its minute furs dried and poofed up. The large mammal began awkwardly crawling further into the shore before suddenly shapeshifting into the woman from the tunnels. Her hair had puffed up like auburn broom as she walked over to drier ground.

"What the hell was that?!" Uriko hissed as she continued to shake off excess water that continued to cling to her fur. "Why would you build a city on top of a nightmare-filled labyrinth?!" She continue to rant in frustration.

The human turned to one side and spat out some river water. "Fallcrest was built on the ruins of an older city," he started. "because the stonemasons did not have the adequate tools and numbers to entirely excavate the ruins. Instead they used it as a viable enough foundation, so after they sealed up all of the entrances to the older sections, they constructed the city." He stood up from the muddy shore, still panting. " Reconstructed cities are usually built like that to stay cost effective and so they can avoid the risk of being exposed during the winter. It's a common enough practice."

"Well, la-di-dah! Aren't you a smart one!" Uriko threw him some sass and crossed her arms.

"What was that abomination that was trying to kill us?" The dragonborn asked the warrior.

"I don't know," the swordsman replied. "What matters is we're alive. And out of that horrible city." The man whipped his long brown hair once, partially drying himself.

Karus looked to the other side of the shore where the rogue was sitting. He had wrung his robes dry and donned them back on. Karus didn't think much of him. "Well, now what?" He asked the group.

"Well, we're leaving," the human replied as he stood to his feet.. "I would suggest that you all go back to town and seek clerical help, if you are injured." He started searching the immediate area for a few seconds.

"This town was nothing but trouble," the dragonborn added. "If we ever come back here, it'll be with an army to raze the place," he grumbled. He began his stride along the river and deeper into the forest that laid beyond. "Shall we, Uriko?"

Uriko scoffed. "Maybe the next city won't be filled with so many horrible people," she said. "And hopefully, less demonic horrors too," she half joked. She followed behind the dragonborn and human.

"Now, here did that thief go?!" The human pondered aloud as they walked.

Curious, Karus also searched the environment for the other stranger. He had completely vanished from sight, as if he had faded into the shadows.

The trio casually walked towards along the banks of the river, chatting idly.

Karus looked back towards the crevasse in the rock wall they had just fallen through. It continued to pour out cold, murky water into the stream beside them. _What is happening here?_ he thought, completely baffled by the series of events that had swept him up. He reached into his pockets and rummaged about, finally retrieving the mysterious bone dagger he had acquired in the mysterious tunnel. He turned back to the others, whom by now were fading away into the distance. The woods had a layer of mist surrounding it, which grew thicker as time when on. _Do i follow them?_ He asked himself. _Or do I go back?_ His dilemma was most distressful, but he realized that he alone could not comprehend, let alone face and potentially vanquish whatever evil laid dormant beneath the city. _Maybe the nearby city or town would be a safer place to conduct an investigation,_ he thought. _And it would be wise not to travel alone._ He tapped his staff once against a nearby stone. "Kaiba, appear."

The wolf spirit materialized before him again.

"Let us leave this terrible place," Karus informed him. "We shall return once we are ready to face whatever lies beneath."

"Very well, friend," his faithful companion said with a nod. The two ran towards the dragonborn, human, and Uriko, the razorclaw shifter.

"What do you want?" The dragonborn spoke with a surly voice. He had soaked leather armor with unrecognizable draconic symbols, some of which had faded and tarnished from exposure and time. He had a single double-edged, one-handed longsword rattling at his side.

"Don't worry about him," the lady named Uriko interjected. "Grelos' a nice guy once you get to know him," she said with an awkward laugh. "My name's Uriko, I'm a druid from the southern lands."

"And the accent?"

"I was raised among the Elves. They took me in after..." she paused, suddenly looking sad. "It's a long story," she completed. "That one's called Chrovan," she pointed towards the human, who was preoccupied with searching for the path to take. "There's another one called Abner, but I have no idea where he went." She looked around. "Maybe he got swept further down the river?"

"Beats me, that half-elf seems to have a tendency to disappear." Chrovan said unconcerned.

"What's your name?" Uriko smiled.

"I'm Karus the Moonspeaker," he spoke proudly. He gestured towards his friend. "And this is my life partner and spiritual guide, Kaiba."

"Pleasure's all mine, Uriko," Kaiba bowed to her.

"Nice to meet you," Uriko said with a friendly wink.

"Yes, yes," the dragonborn named Grelos rushed their introductions along. "We're very pleased to meet you," he said without taking the time to look back. "Now, can we please find a place to rest before it gets dark?"

The four adventurers continued their journey, and walked bravely into the mist.


	5. Into the Woods

Grelos leaned his neck to both sides in rapid succession, cracking them and relieving pressure. The party of four had been marching for a few hours now, and his body had become tense from carrying such a heavy load, compounded with the lack of proper sleep. Chrovan had been been leading the way, but a majority of the map's markings had been smudged, burned, and ripped by the previous altercations, making navigation quite difficult. The longtooth shifter shaman Karus occasionally spoke, but all he ever let on was some tedious sermon about spirits that Grelos never bothered listening to. Uriko, the razorclaw druid, expressed some interest and would humor him from time to time. But for the most part, Grelos watched their surroundings, making sure that they would not be caught unawares again. However, the nearly impenetrable fog made perception difficult, keeping Grelos on edge throughout the trek. And most annoyingly, the half-elf rogue Abner was still nowhere to be seen. _Probably ran away again,_ Grelos thought in contempt. _Good riddance._

"Did ya miss me?!" Abner inverted from a tree branch and appeared in front of Grelos' face, mere inches from touching one another.

Uriko gasped in shock and jumped back.

Karus exclaimed and flinched as he was taken off-guard.

Chrovan whipped around and immediately pulled out his mace in a defensive stance.

Grelos reacted instinctively and punched Abner directly in the center of the face. The impact sent the rogue tumbling off the branch, flying backwards, and landing face-first into gravel.

"What is the World Serpent's name is wrong with you?!" Karus chastised Abner as he calmed himself down.

Uriko spontaneously burst into laughter as she saw what had happened. "Wow, you really got him good!" She continued to laugh as she ran over to Abner's side and helped him to his feet.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow," Abner groaned as Uriko lifted him up. He had one hand slung over her shoulder, and one other hand holding his nose, which had already started dripping blood. "Is that any way to greet the guy who broke you out of the prison?" He said with a nasally voice.

"You're gonna get yourself killed someday, Abner," Grelos warned him as he cracked his knuckles. The rogue's presence greatly annoyed him, but he chose to tolerate it.

"Well, wouldn't that make you happy," Abner snorted back, holding his head back. He let go of Uriko and stumbled back over to a nearby tree trunk and rested against it.

Chrovan approached the hurting thief and laid a single hand on his shoulder to hold him in place for inspection. "Here, let me see that," he ordered. He placed one hand closer to Abner's face.

"Oh good! Someone who has healing magic!" Abner said with relief.

"Hold still," Chrovan continued, as he positioned his hand closer to the blood-filled nostril.

"Thank you so much, kind-"

Chrovan shut him up with a sharp push of his thumb, which caused a meaty crack to sound off from Abner's face.

Uriko winced and looked away.

"Oooooowwwww!" Abner flinched back, and grabbed both sides of his nose again.

"That'll do for now," Chorvan said sardonically. "It'll heal in a couple of days, as long as you don't injure it again." He turned to face Grelos, and cracked a smile. "That felt really good," he whispered to him.

Grelos stifled a slight chuckle.

"Thank you! Thank you very much!" Abner responded, his voice heavy with his usual sarcasm. "Top notch medic skills, my friend!"

"How long were you waiting for us up there?" Karus inquired.

"One, maybe two hours?" Abner wiped the now-coagulated blood from the bridge of his nose. "Did you guys get lost or something?"

"Unfortunately yes," Uriko answered. "This damn fog is preventing us from seeing where we're going."

"Maybe we should make camp?" Karus suggested. He leaned backwards, causing his back to crackle and pop.

"How much longer until we reach the nearest city?" Grelos impatiently asked Chrovan.

Chrovan was holding the map in both hands and attempting to decipher the ruined symbols. Eventually he let out a defeated sigh. "I can't really tell," he admitted as he showed Grelos the ruined map. "Looks like there's a small village somewhere between here and the nearest city; it's probably another half day's march to there."

"What's the village called?"

"No clue." Chrovan shrugged. "We should rest for now, and then we can make the rest of the journey by nightfall."

Grelos was apprehensive. "Are you sure it's safe to rest here? I feel like there are eyes everywhere watching us."

"It's the forest; there's always something watching you," Uriko interjected. "As long as we don't bother them, they usually leave you alone." She placed her knapsack onto the ground and started rummaging for supplies.

"Very well," Grelos grumbled, still feeling uneasy.

"If something does attack us, I'd prefer that we are all in fighting shape," Chrovan reasoned. He walked over to joined the others, whom had all begun retrieving their belongings from their respective bags.

Within minutes, the party had acquired a decent amount of kindling and dried wood to make a fire. They arrived the twigs and leaves into a pile, and Abner begun striking his dagger against a piece of flint he kept in his pocket.

Uriko gently stopped him. "Mind if I try something?" She requested.

"By all means," he stood aside.

Uriko approached with a single black stone in her right hand. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a desiccated seed of some sort. She held it up to her mouth and whispered a druidic incantation into it before dropping it onto the kindling. In an instant, the seed started burning, and the embers wafted towards the twigs and leaves, setting them ablaze. Within moments, there was a decent campfire.

"You're useful in the wilderness," Abner remarked.

"It is my trade, after all," Uriko replied confidently.

The crew sat around the warm and calming embrace of the fire. Eventually they took out their individual rations and ate dinner in silence. Abner chewed loudly on some hardtack and jerky. Uriko ate some dried fruits and miscellaneous nuts. Chrovan had saved a leg of turkey from the previous day, and was eating heartily. Karus was eating some bread with cheese. Grelos tossed aside a soggy piece of bread that had started growing mold, and instead ate some leftover sausage.

Grelos' knife wound had partially healed, and the surrounding scar tissue had started itching for the past several hours. This, compounded with the low visibility and constant noise of the forest, made it near impossible for him to relax. After hastily gobbling the remainder of his food, he stood up and declared, "I'll take first watch. You should all get some rest."

"I'll go with you," Uriko offered. "I need to gather some things, anyway."

"Alright," he reluctantly agreed. The shifter had become strangely attached to him after the jailbreak, which made him uncomfortable. But she had proven herself in a fight before, so he didn't mind her.

The pair begun circling the perimeter and searching for any potential threats. The air was cold and wet, causing dew to accumulate on the lush green leaves of the trees around them. As time passed and the sun's position shifted, it progressively became harder to see through the fog, but the sounds of various vermin never diminished. Bird sang their sounds, rodents scattered along the ground, and indistinct rustling of leaves and foliage could be heard throughout the landscape.

After they marched from a couple hundred paces, Uriko addressed Grelos. "How did you learn how to breathe lightning?"

"Why do you ask?" Grelos pushed aside a stray tree branch that blocked his path.

Uriko rummaged through a bush and pulled out a handful of unidentified oblong red berries. "I've never seen a dragon's breath before. I'm just curious."

"Most dragonborn can perform a dragon's breath," he explained. "It's an ability granted to us by our draconic heritage. The element you control depends entirely on the individual."

"Why did you choose the lighting?"

"I didn't choose." Grelos would alway remember that day, as it was a great source of inspiration for him. "It was on my sixth year," he started. "There was a great storm ravaging the coastline where I lived. My kin were seeking shelter from the torrential rains. But for some reason, the storm excited me. It was almost like it was calling out to me. I went outside, against my mother's wishes, and gazed upon it. I could see white cracks etched across the blackness. It was like the night sky was being shattered to pieces."

He paused for a moment to help Uriko harvest some tree sap from a nearby tree. Uriko had a star-struck look on her face. "Go on."

"I felt like there was something building up inside my chest. If I could not let it out, I was certain that I would burst. The thunder challenged me, but I wasn't afraid. So I roared in defiance to the the storm, and without even realizing it, I had created my own lightning."

Uriko was wide eyed in amazement.

"Then, about two weeks later, I woke up," Grelos admitted sheepishly. "Getting struck by lightning puts you to sleep for a while. Who would've thought?"

"I don't think I could ever do something as awesome as that," Uriko said somberly. She quickly dug up some roots and pocketed them.

Grelos felt an almost paternal instinct take control. "You're pretty talented with magic, Uriko. I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out." He invoked his lighting whip, which caused his hand to generate a tendril sparkling blue energy. Concentrating intensely, he then reduced the intensity of the shock, and focused it into a singular point in his hand. He then raised his upward-facing open palm and the cackling blue orb towards Uriko. "Try this."

Uriko hesitantly reached for the blue sphere. When her hand was within inches of the surface, a single tiny bolt of lightning arced out from the orb and into her hand. She jolted back in pain, clutching her twitching claw. "Ow!" She exclaimed.

Grelos canceled the spell, and the orb faded away into nothingness. "Apologies, it can be a little intense at first."

"Yeah, no kidding," Uriko gritted through her teeth as she shook the pain out.

"Remember that feeling," Grelos continued. "Let it build up within your core, and then visualize it out of your own body. Lighting flows just like water; it just hurts a hell of a lot more."

"I can tell." Uriko was still rubbing up and down the length of her forearm.

"You'll get used to it," Grelos said with a kind smile.

Uriko looked down at her open palm, and back to him. She had a fiery determination in her eyes that reminded of him when he was still young. "Thanks, Grelos," she said with a gentle smile.

"Anytime."

Eventually, after one last pass of combing their surroundings, Grelos and Uriko returned to the camp. Uriko sorted her various gathered ingredients. Abner has laid out a bedroll and was snoring loudly. Chrovan was maintaining his equipment by sharpening the flanges on his mace and replacing chipped rings in his chainmail. Karus was meditating with Kaiba at his side. Grelos applied some more healing ointment onto the wound on his back, and slowly savored his last bottle of fortified red wine.

The rest of the journey was rushed as Chrovan marched the party through the seemingly unending thicket of the forest. The light continued to diminish, lending a sense of urgency to the proceedings. The darkness, compounded with the fog, would make them incredibly vulnerable to sneak attack. Grelos had no plans to sleep in the belly of a bear or be skewered by a bandit's sword, so he trudged on as well. Unfortunately, after enough time had passed, the group was hopelessly lost.

"We should've reach the main road by now," Chrovan said.

"I can't see a damn thing." Abner had climbed up a nearby tree in order to get a better vantage point, but to no avail.

Uriko was going through her spellbook and attempting to find some utility spell that would help with their navigation.

"Any luck?" Grelos asked, looking over he shoulder. She had incredibly neat handwriting, and appeared to be able to write in at least two distinct languages. There were various druidic runes drawn across multiple pages, each more more complex than the last.

"No," she said in frustration. "Can you believe that there are at least four spells that create fog, but none that dispel it?" She shut the book and pouted.

"How convenient," Grelos muttered sarcastically.

He noticed that Karus had entered another trance, and was standing with both arms outstretched. His right hand was still gripping onto his weathered wooden staff.

 _What is with this bizarre fellow?_ Grelos thought, growing more and more perplexed at the shaman's mannerisms and customs. _Can you do anything useful?_

Karus' body trembled as he brought the staff to his center line and gripped it with both hands. He kept his eyes shut and whispered something.

Curious, Grelos took a few steps closer to hear him better.

"Help," Karus stammered as he rotated around. He stopped, and appeared to be pointing the wide end of his staff towards something. The mist obscured whatever it was, but it was almost like the staff was being pulled towards some mysterious force deeper into the woods. "Help me!" He ominously whispered, and opened his eyes. "The spirits are telling me to go this way," he declared.

"The spirits? What the hell are you even talking about?" Grelos questioned.

"I can hear their voices," Karus explained. "Something beyond this veil is alone. And in danger. It needs our help," he pleaded.

"Listen Karus," Grelos stopped him. "You're a nice guy, but we don't have time to investigate a bad feeling. We need to find the main road so we can get out of this place."

"Trust me," Karus implored him.

 _Fine, I'll humor you._ Grelos shut out his immediate surroundings to hear further and clearer. Unexpectedly, in the distance, he could hear something faint. After he focused his senses, It sounded like the faint voice of a woman, and came from the direction Karus was pointing at. _Somebody help me!_ it sounded like in Grelos' head. "Someone's in trouble!" He announced as he started towards the direction of the distress call.

The others paused for a moment, as if unsure of how to proceed. Eventually they unanimously decided to follow Grelos' lead. The group ran through the nearly impenetrable mist and across rugged forest terrain for a short time. Grelos drew his sword to assist with bushwhacking through the countless green obstacles that stood in his path. Eventually, they reached an outcropping, and found the source of the cry.

A woman laid on her back in the dirt, trembling in fear. She had long dark red hair poking out of the cloak of her black cloak. Underneath, she wore dark blue cloth garments. She continued to back away clumsily in the mud from unseen pursuers.

Some hunched over figures slipped out of the fog, all of whom were brandishing various simple but nefarious weapons. Soon enough, there were eight of them, and they slowly advanced on the shaking, retreating woman.

"You shouldn't be in these woods all alone, missy," one of them snarled as he licked his lips. His body appeared to be human, but atop his shoulders there was a massive rat's head. Out the back of his stained leather pants was single ringed, snake-like tail.

"Lycanthropes," Chrovan whispered to the group. "Wererats, from the look of it."

Grelos looked closer. He noticed a large bulge at the base of the woman's belly. It took him only a moment to realize something horrible. "She pregnant," he said aloud. He knew intimately what it looked like to see a woman with child, and the sight of these horrible beings threatening her life filled his heart with bile. He lept out of the bushes and presented himself to the others. "Leave her alone!" He trumpeted at the top of his lungs.

"A stranger!" One hissed, wielding twin daggers in both hands.

"Not just any stranger! A dragonborn!" Another clicked his long slender tongue as he twirled a single hook-like instrument his his left hand.

"Leave her be now, or die," Grelos spoke with each syllable dripping with pure hatred. He poised his blade toward them as he approached.

"You dragonborn never knew when to run," one wererat with a lazy eye remarked. "I'll turn your hide into a fine coin pouch!"

"Try it." Grelos charged toward his foes with sword held high.

"Kill him!" The leader shouted. The others surrounding him drew their attention to Grelos and positioned themselves to intercept him.

The fog visibly parted as Grelos bolted towards them. One of the wererats stepped forward, lifted his dinged and jagged blade and prepared to strike the woman down. Grelos cleared the distance and placed himself between the wererat and her, and swung his sword.

The wererat's arm dettached at the elbow and flew into the bushes as a geyser of blood spewed from the open wound. He clutched the stump and shrieked in agony.

Grelos followed up his attack by reaching forward with his free hand, and seized him by the throat, cutting off his indistinct rabble. And with a burst of rage-fueled might, Grelos proceeded to lift him up into the air and guided him head first into the ground.

The body jerked sickeningly once, and Grelos could feel something protruding from the wererat's neck against his fingers. He released his grip and entered a fighting stance, protecting the woman behind him. "Who dies next?" He challenged them.

"He can't take us all out at once!" The leader ordered, getting visibly agitated. The group continued to fan out and surrounded the lone dragonborn from all sides. And as a unit, they continued to close in towards him with weapons posed to strike.

The fog continued to swirl in the wake of Grelos' mad dash, and the threads of moisture coalesced into the form of a blue wolf. The moment it appeared, it leapt into the air, bared its fangs, and sunk them deep into a nearby wererat's neck.

The wererat attempted to swipe away the ethereal creature's form, but it held tight and continued to clamp down, shaking its head viciously. The lycanthrope fell to his knees, weakly attempting to push Kaiba off of him.

Two enemies of opposites sides of Grelos charged him simultaneously in an attempt to gain the advantage. A small pebble-like object flew through the air from the bushes and landed onto one's fur. A half-second later, the wererat had become engulfed in furious flames. He failed in abject horror and changed trajectory, landing against a nearby ally, whom he too caught aflame. Both enemies screamed as they attempted to put out the fires.

The other reached Grelos unhindered and attempted to gut him with a hook-tipped blade. Grelos parried the strike and countered with an upward sword swing, which the wererat nimbly dodged with a retreating step.

The enemy whom was struggling with the spirit wolf had become sluggish and weak. Eventually his eyes glazed over, his body went limp, and Kaiba released him. His corpse collapsed into the cold, wet earth. Kaiba then swiftly floated over to beside the woman and paced around her, his clenched jaw still dripping with crimson.

In the corner of Grelos' eye, he saw some unknown quadruped breach the veil of the foliage and fog. The creature circled around the melee and moved with utmost speed and agility. It then turned sharply, momentarily stopping. It appeared to be a female tiger with brown fur and black stripes. _Uriko?_ She barrelled forward towards an unsuspecting foe and swung her massive clawed palm at him.

Uriko raked her tiger claw against his face and pushed the enemy back several feet and against a tree, causing the trunk to shake from the tremendous force. The wererat turned to one side and spat out blood and teeth. He attempted to get up again to complete the fight, but after some struggle, he fell backwards and ceased moving. Bright green fan-shaped leaves with dark green veins begun to fall from the tree in the aftermath, further obscuring the fight.

One of the wererats managed to sneak up behind Uriko with a spear. He grasped the shaft in both hands and plunged it towards her sleek, supple frame in an attempt to impale her.

A shadow descended upon the encroaching enemy, and cut him to shreds with a rapid series of cuts from behind. He fell forward, dead, and Abner was standing behind him with a pair of bloodstained daggers held with each hand in a reverse grip. He and Uriko exchanged a simple nod, and they broke off to deal with the remaining adversaries.

Grelos continued to spar with his current opponent. The creature dodged his horizontal cut with a quickly tumbled and landed behind him. He placed the hook behind Grelos' heel, and pulled forward, slicing him along the tendon and across his ankle.

Grelos grunted in pain and fell to one knee. He swiped his sword again with a downward diagonal motion, but his faster foe easily evaded his attack again.

"What's the matter, scaly man? Losing your nerve?" He cackled through a gap-filled and filth-encrusted maw.

Grelos limped towards his foe and continued attempting to cut him with his sword. The slippery fiend moved behind a tree and appeared to have disappeared into the shrouds of mist and leaves.

The two whom had been set alight groaned as their singed bodies twitched. The burn marks on their bodies slowly disappeared like peeling paint as they invoked their their lycanthropic healing. They stood back up, retrieved their dropped weapons, and focused their attention to him. Two of them took his flank, making it impossible to watch both their movements at once. Both swung their swords in unison, and Grelos lifted his blade to block on of their blows with an echoing clang. He bit down, preparing to take the other hit.

Unexpectedly, he was greeted with the sound of clashing steel instead. He turned his head slightly, and saw Chrovan had blocked the strike with his extended shield.

After a brief pause, they both counterattacked in tandem. Grelos twirled his foe's sword in a rapid clockwise motion, throwing him off-balance. Chorvan forced his opponent's sword down and into the dirt, disarming him. And with impeccable synchronization, the two fighters switched places and swung their weapons like a hurricane of steel.

Both wererats on each side stood erect and wobbling side-to side for a moment, as if dazed. After the seconds passed, they both fell the ground without a sound, slain.

 _Two left,_ Grelos thought as the party regrouped and faced down the remaining enemies. He looked to both sides, and could see Chrovan, Uriko, Abner, Karus, and Kaiba standing beside him.

The last enemy in sight slowly backed away with their weapons pointed to keep the party away at a safe distance. He angrily banged his chest in defiance. "Do you think you have won?! Think again!" Drool slowly dripped from the side of his toothy sneer. "Zanzibar will hear of this! And she will have your hides as pelts!" He continued to back away, eventually vanishing into the mist.

"Yeah, keep running!" Uriko taunted.

"Ha! Unworthy opponents." Chrovan laughed. He swung his mace through the air in a circular motion and halted its movement, allowing the momentum to throw off the blood that had stained the steel, and finally sheathed it.

Grelos looked around in the mist. _That was too easy,_ he thought. _Something's amiss._ He kept his longsword tightly clasped in his right hand as he searched for any traces of more hostiles. He looked over to the spot where Uriko had left one of them laying. To his surprise, he discovered the spot had been recently vacated, the foe had slipped his sight. _Damn, at least three left,_ he corrected himself.

Karus knelt beside the lone female and extended a friendly hand. "Are you okay, miss?" He spoke in a calm and soothing voice.

The whimpering woman flinched as he approached, but did not answer.

"Are you hurt?" Karus continued, trying to get a response.

"I-I'm fine," she stammered. "Who are you people?"

"We're travellers. My name is Karus," he introduced himself. He began motioning to the others, who were still scattered about the vicinity, on-alert. "That is is Grelos. She is called Uriko. He is Chrovan. And the last one, whom I can't quite seem to find, is Abner. We were lost in the woods, just like you," he explained with a sincere smile. "What is your name?"

"M-my name's Cynthia," she started.

"What were you doing out here alone?" Chorvan asked.

"My husband has been missing for two days. His name is Travis. Have you seen him?" She inquired.

"I'm afraid I'm not from here, ma'am," Karus said. "I do not know your husband." "But it isn't safe here," he continued. "We should go to the nearest town. Where are you from? Is it nearby?"

Cynthia took a moment to think, still partially paralyzed by fear. "I'm from Crescent's Peak. It's a city east of here," she detailed, trembling all the while.

"Can you take us there?"

Cynthia nodded.

Karus gently helped the pregnant woman to her feet. He took great care to not hurt her as he dusted her clothes off. "Can you walk?"

"Yes," she replied weakly.

"Wait," Grelos spoke sharply to the group. He could hear something in the distance rapidly approaching. He attempted to perceive in the fog again, and this time he hear pawprints hitting the ground, one after another. Along with the rhythmic beating he could hear growling and snapping jowls as a musky scent descended upon the area.

A lone figure dropped in from the canopy, landing with barely the slightest sound. It was Abner. "We have to leave now!" He warned. "They're sending wolves at us!"

"Which way do we go?!" Grelos asked the frightened woman.

She started stuttering, "I don't know. But the main road should be around here somewhere. Maybe north of here? If we can find it, it's a straight journey east to Crescent's Peak."

The barking and howling was getting louder as it approached. With the obscuring mist and the bouncing echo of the surrounding woods, it was impossible to discern specifically where they would be attacking from.

"Just run!" Chrovan commanded. He chose an arbitrary direction and started making tracks. Without an other viable options, the group followed suit, pulling the woman along.

During his sprint, Grelos felt an intense pain seize his leg as the injury spontaneously widened. He fell over to the side, but managed to catch himself before he hit the ground. Blood started to leak profusely from the wound as he stumbled to follow them. He looked up to try to find them, but the rest of the group had already vanished beyond the gloom.

"Grelos!" Karus called back.

"Where did he go?" He could hear Uriko speak.

"Keep running!" Grelos shouted back. "I'll catch up!" He lied. _I'll only slow you down,_ he thought. He sat with his back against a wall of bark and wood. He began to undo the straps that kept his leather armor bound to his chest and let it fall to the wayside. He then unfastened the belt of his longsword, drew the blade, and threw the sheath and belt to the ground. He took a breath to calm himself down as the sound of approaching ravenous beasts surrounded him. _Can you smell me, you mongrels?_ He thought as blood continued to drip onto the ground and intermingled with the moist soil. _Don't keep me waiting._ This time, he held his trusty blade with both hands, and watched the darkness for the first sign of attack.

Several seconds passed, and the wolves drew closer. He could see their yellow glowing eyes twinkling from behind the wispy cloud.

One charged towards him and leapt up towards his chest.

Grelos launched himself forward and slashed his sword, bisecting the beast clean in half lengthwise. The two halves fell in opposite sides on him.

A second beast darted behind him and nipped at his wounded leg.

Grelos fell to his knees once more, in pain. He then stabbed the creature directly through its skull, pinning its twitching corpse into the dirt.

A third leapt onto his exposed back and sunk its fangs into his shoulder.

Grelos roared in torment and released his sword. He reached back with both hands, clamped them on his attacker's snout, and dug his sharp claws into the flesh. The creature whimpered and tried to squirm away as he continued to crush its seemingly fragile head into mush. Once it had stopped moving, he peeled it off his back and threw its lifeless body back towards the others.

Blood gushed from Grelos' neck wound, causing his vision to blur. He frantically turned his head to each side, doing his best to remain aware his current surroundings. But the injuries eventually took a toll on him, and he collapsed face first into the mud.

The creatures growled and snapped their hideous jaws as they approached his motionless, severely weakened body.

Grelos could hear the sounds of barking and howling as his vision slowly faded away into darkness.


	6. Crescent's Peak

"Grelos!" Uriko called out in all directions. Her voice echoed once before fading away into the forest. "Grelos!" She repeated herself in desperation.

"Be quiet!" Chrovan snapped at her. "Do you want those damn things to find us again?!" He had both his shield and mace drawn as he remained alert.

"But Grelos could still be back there! He might need our help!" Uriko argued.

Chrovan somehow maintained his calm demeanor. "Grelos stayed behind to cover our escape. He was far too wounded to keep pace with us, anyway."

"We can't just leave him to die!" Uriko protested.

"I don't want to leave him either, but if he's fallen, then we shouldn't let his sacrifice be in vain," Chrovan continued.

Uriko was completely fed up with his callous attitude. "Wasn't he your friend?"

"Yes, he was my friend," Chrovan snapped back. "In fact, I knew him longer than you did."

"And you're just going to abandon him?" Uriko scoffed in contempt. "I shouldn't have expected anything more from a mercenary."

Chrovan turned to face her, and his eyes were full of fire. "You don't know a goddamn thing about me." He advanced on her, and stopped when they were within arm's reach of one another. "So don't you dare talk down to me," he threatened.

 _Or what? What're you gonna do?_ Uriko's blood began to boil, and she extended the claws from the tips of her paws. The muscles in her arm tensed.

Karus and Kaiba placed themselves between the feuding pair, keeping them farther apart from one another and immediately dispelling the tension.

"I know we're all stressed right now, but we have enough problems without fighting each other," Karus spoke authoritatively to the both of them.

Kaiba joined him, "This does not help us. We need to find a way to the nearby village if we wish to survive the night," he reasoned.

"Relax, Uriko." Abner whispered softly to Uriko as he appeared behind her. "It's not worth it," he said with a smile and a hand gently placed on her shoulder.

Uriko scoffed. "I don't need you protecting me," she said as she slid his arm off. "I can take care of myself." She moved away from the group, pouting.

"Fair enough." Abner slipped away and out of sight again.

 _That's starting to get old,_ she thought.

She could hear Karus continuing to communicate with the woman from before. "Does this place seem at all familiar to you?"

There was no reply.

Chorvan bushwhacked through some nearby foliage, attempting to find a way back to the main road. "She's in shock," he said nonchalantly. "She'll be no help to us."

Uriko ground her teeth in frustration as she continued to pace about, trying to find some clue of a nearby road or town. Alas, she didn't see anything. Instead, her nose caught the faintest scent of blood. _That's never good,_ she thought. "Guys?" She called out to the group as she continued wafting the air to reacquire the scent trail.

"What is it? What do you smell?" Karus asked.

"Blood," she answered as she lowered her stance. She took a few steps in the direction of the intensifying smell. Eventually, the faint trace has been replaced with a repugnant odor, which caused her to gag. She retreated from the smell, but accidentally tripped over something hard and metallic, making a dull ringing sound. A stinging pain shot up her leg from her foot. "Ow!" She shifted away, baring her claws.

"What is that?" Karus asked, moving closer. He covered his nose and mouth with the fabric of his robe sleeve.

The two inspected closer, and Karus parted the ground-level fog with a wave of his staff. There was a lone devastated corpse of an armored humanoid lying in the dirt. The head was missing, and judging by the damaged tissue all around the neck, it had been torn off. A majority of the body was clad in a lacquered black plate armor which bore several wide gash marks, as if etched out by claws. There were several indents and drag marks on the dirt surrounding the corpse, indicating that there was an intense and ultimately futile struggle.

"What are you two doing?" Chrovan appeared behind them, sounding irritated. He let out a disgusted grunt, probably when he caught a whiff of the decay. "What in the world?" He stood between them to get a closer look.

"We found a local," Karus explained. "I'm afraid he'll be unable to give us any directions."

Chrovan moved to one side of the corpse, and knelt beside it to inspect it more thoroughly. He tapped the carapace of the breastplate a few times, rubbed his finger across the various curves of the armor, and fiddled with the leather straps.

"What is it?" Uriko asked, perplexed by how nonchalantly Chrovan was handling the dead body.

"This plate armor is masterwork quality," Chrovan remarked. "It's a shame we have to leave it here." He flipped the body over to inspect the other side, and found a leather sash attached to a large wooden scabbard that was slung over the deceased soldier's back. "Interesting."

"What's interesting?" Karus prodded.

Chrovan didn't answer as he stood back up, and looked around. He approached a nearby tree and grabbed a strangely shaped branch with both hands. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a greatsword that had been wedged deep inside the bark, probably the aftermath of a final full-strength swing. Chrovan struggled for a brief moment before he forced the blade out of the tree, and lifted the gleaming blade aloft to inspect it.

It was a long and heavy thing; the blade was almost four feet long, and the handle required two hands to cover it from guard to pommel. All along the length of the blade, at the middle, there was a bold line of silver that shone brighter than the rest of the surrounding steel. The handle was wrapped in black leather strips that spiraled along the length. At the pommel, there was an insignia of the yellow outline of the circle, filled in black. It vaguely resembled a new moon.

 _That's so familiar_ , Uriko thought as Chrovan waved the weapon through the air, using it to cut some some foliage. The item sliced through the air and parted the branch like it were nothing with sharp metallic sound. The sound caused to Uriko to flinch and gasp in shock, as if by instinct.

Chrovan looked satisfied. "Excellent. Lycanthropes will run at the presence of a silvered weapon. If they're smart." He slung his mace and shield, and switched to the greatblade instead. He returned to the corpse, and added the scabbard to his inventory. "That'll do for now."

Uriko shuddered for a moment, feeling an almost child-like sense of fear creeping up on her. _What's happening?_ She thought as her heart started to beat faster. _Why do I-_? Her breathing became more rapid as her anxiety increased. She stared deeply at the gleaming silvered core of the fearsome blade, and felt terrified, but she could not remember or rationalize why.

"What's wrong?" Karus touched her shoulder, shocking her out of her trance. "You're shaking," Karus mentioned, sounding concerned. "Are you cold?"

"It's nothing," Uriko assured him.

"Found it!" Abner abruptly called out from the canopy. "I found the main road!"

The party dashed over to the sound of his voice, and they beheld a wide earthen road that cut through the greenery. There were some faded wagon tracks still etched into the dirt, indicating that the path had been recently traversed.

By this time, the sun may have been setting, according to the rapidly darkening sky. It was hard to tell, as the mist greatly obscured all light into a single diffused white glow. The coldness of the approaching night had started biting away at her exposed skin, but she paid it no mind. If needed, she always had the option to transform herself into a creature with thicker fur if she needed to endure the harsher elements.

"Further east, the lady said?" Abner confirmed with the woman, who shyly nodded in response.

"Fantastic," Chorvan chimed in. "Let us leave this horrible place and return to civilization." He started moving ahead of the group and kept on the main road. He did not slow his pace for the others.

Uriko didn't bother keeping up. She continued to walk alongside the road with her companions and their ward. She swayed from side to side, almost in a daze. _What's wrong with me?_ She tried to calm herself by stretching.

Abner and Karus walked beside her, not saying a word. The awkward silence continued for several minutes, until they caught up with Chrovan, whom appeared to be engaging in a conversation with two armor-clad figures.

The two strangers stood ominously in the center of the road. From their garb, they appeared to be city guards. From which town, it was hard to determine. Both of them wore identical greyed wool tunics over a layer of rattling chainmail. They both sported oversized and worn out brown belts, which kept a battle horn strapped to one hip, and a dagger to the other. On the chest region of the cloth, there was an unfamiliar sigil; a dark blue crescent moon behind the outline of a mountain. They wore the same simple boiled leather vambraces and boots on their arms and feet, respectively. Also, there were large olive-colored capes draped over their shoulders and fastened around their necks with short brass chains. The cloth fluttered in the gentle breeze as they faced down the party.

"Greetings. We are searching for a town called Crescent's Peak," Chrovan spoke to them in his usual nobleman's tone.

Uriko continued to examine these mysterious individuals. The one of the left with short and bushy maroon hair held a spear in his right hand a had a small rounded wooden shield strapped to his left. The man to his right with clean blonde hair and a small goatee under his rounded chin, and carried a one-handed waister sword clasped in two hands. He also had a large kite shield slung over his back.

At this point, Uriko was prepared for another fight. She had dealt with a fair share of hostiles over the past few days, and would not allow herself to be taken unawares again. She cracked her fur-covered knuckles in anticipation.

"Well, you're in luck!" The man with the spear spoke up with a jaunty voice as he moved closer. "Crescent's Peak is further down this road. It's best that you head there posthaste! These woods are incredibly dangerous at night!" He had a small friendly smile, and his short red hair waved back and forth as he moved.

The other hushed him. "Quiet, Frelick. We do not even know these people." He walked past his friend and lifted an arm to block him off. He apprehensively approached the group with his dinged steel sword still poised in a readied stance. "What business do you have in Crescent's Peak?" He asked forcefully.

"We were lost in these woods when the mist rolled in," Karus interjected. He stepped aside to display the woman whom they had saved. "This woman is named Cynthia. She's a resident of Crescent's Peak. She was attacked by wererats. Thankfully, we arrived just in time to save her."

"Cynthia? Isn't that the name of the missing woman? Isn't she Trisha's younger sister?" The man named Frelick asked his compatriot.

"Yes, it would appear to be so," the other soldier replied, not lowering his guard. "The town is further east of here." He stretched out a hand to the woman, beckoning her to come to him. "Come with me Cynthia. Let's get you back home."

Cynthia slowly crept past the group and over to the man, finally lightly grasping his hand. He then turned around without a word to the others, and began escorting her in the opposite direction. As they slowly walked alongside one another, he quickly removed his cloak and placed it around her shoulders to keep her warm.

The other guard walked closer to the party, using his spear as a walking stick. "Thank you so much for rescuing one of our residents!" He spoke appreciatively as he reached his hand out to each of them. "My name is Frelick!"

Uriko hesitantly reached out, grabbed his hand and clumsily shook once, and retreated away. It was such an alien feeling to encounter another friendly face, given her recent experiences.

"The other one is my brother. He's called Lance. A real charmer, ain't he?" Frelick joked with a jolly laugh.

"Yeah, talkative too!" Abner joined in.

"Allow us to escort you to the town."

Several minutes passed as they walked cautiously along the gravelly road. Every time something shifted at the corner of Uriko's eye, she jumped in anticipation of another encounter. Thankfully, another skirmish never happened.

"So, where are you from?" Frelick turned out to be a very talkative lad. Slightly annoying, but not nearly as offensive as the other people Uriko had to deal with the past few days.

"I'm from Lesalene, to the south," Uriko replied hesitantly as she fidgeted with her belongings.

"Lots of different places," Abner dodged the question.

"I hail from a prosperous land far from here, Dera," Chrovan spoke with his usual pomp and air of self-importance. "There, my family ruled as the eponymous and widely respected House Dakal." His deep voice was proud and forceful.

Uriko rolled her eyes and mentally drowned him out he continued to deluge the details of his homeland in excruciating detail.

"That's incredible!" Frelick seemed genuinely impressed. He then turned to Karus. "What about you?"

Karus smiled. "I do not have a homeland. My people are-" He looked down, seeming rather distressed the more he spoke. He took a deep breath and finished. "-were a nomadic tribe." Uriko sensed that he was hiding some detail, but she did not want to pry.

"My brother and I were born in Crescent's Peak, and we've lived there our whole lives," Frelick started. "We joined the town guard together, to make some travelling money."

"Where are planning to go?" Uriko asked.

"We never decided," Frelick sheepishly chuckled. "But it would be far away from here. Somewhere safe and less hectic."

"On that topic," Chrovan cut in. "What is going on in these woods? What did those lycanthropes want with that woman?"

Frelick's easygoing demeanor suddenly shifted to a worried, grim expression. "Terrible things, I'd imagine. The Feral Hearts have become more violent and bolder with each passing full moon."

"The Feral Hearts?"

"Yes, that is what they call themselves. They are a clan of organized lycanthropes that dwell deep within the uncharted regions of the Lamenting Woods. They are led by a dark sorceress she-wolf named Zanzibar." His voice seemed to tremble as he spoke her name.

"Zanzibar," Chrovan repeated the name under his breath. "I'll keep that in mind."

Frelick continued to embellish. "Zanzibar is a dark and terrible woman. They say she is over eight feet tall and can crush rocks with her mind! And that she wears a cloak fashioned from the skins of her victims!" "But do not fear!" His glum look was instantly replaced by his usual kind optimistic smirk. "Pardue and his New Moon Knights will protect us."

"Who is Pardue?" Karus inquired.

"Parude is a holy man, and paladin of the platinum dragon Bahamut!" From the gleam in his eyes, it was obvious that Frelick highly regarded and admired this unknown man. "He has led our town for many years through these dark times. He is a courageous warrior and a pious man! He could save a thousand innocents and slay a thousand wicked beings all by himself!"

"A paladin of Bahamut, you say? Most impressive," Chrovan nodded in approval.

The dim twilight gave way to a pitched darkness, which appeared to stretch forward endlessly. Thankfully, after some more walking, Uriko could see the dim outlines of lit torches flickering in the haze.

"Finally, we're here!" Frelick declared joyfully.

"Oh, thank Bahamut," Lance muttered in relief.

As they approached closer, Uriko could see the massive wooden and steel gates of the city. The gate was still slightly ajar, and there was a small squad of soldiers standing attentively and arm with spears. They were clad in the exact same uniform as Lance and Frelick, albeit with minor differences in condition. There was a large wooden fence stretching past both sides of the entrance, and the structure seemed to continue far off into the distance on both sides. There were some moving lights atop the highest walkways, most likely from distant patrol movements. Multiple palisades was positioned beyond the outside of the wall at ground level, menacing the approaching crew with dangerous wooden points.

Lance waved a hand to the sentries and called out, "We've found the missing woman, Cynthia! She is safe!"

The group continued to cautiously march as one towards the city gates.

Once they were closer, Uriko watched as Lance escorted the woman beyond the gates. Her gait had become uneven and erratic from fatigue. Although she did not care about her, Uriko felt strangely content that her involvement had saved an innocent from harm. She cracked a slight smile as they moved closer.

"Who are these people?" One of the wardens pointed to her and the party.

Frelick quickly responded. "They are just travellers! They were lost in the woods too. They're the reason we came back with a person and not a corpse," he explained.

The guard shifted closer to Frelick, leaned into his ear, and whispered something Uriko could not make out. Frelick responded inaudibly as well. After an unknown agreement had been made, the guards stepped aside, allowing the group entrance into the mysterious new town.

"What kind of place is this?!" Karus abruptly spoke out, sounding livid. "What type of savagery is this?!" Karus pointed at something that seemed to have greatly offended him.

 _What's wrong with him?_ Uriko was about to step closer, but she sensitive nostrils picked up a foreboding scent. _Blood again?_ she thought. The area was rank with it, and she somehow had not noticed until now. She looked up at the tops of the gates, towards the direction of the smell. Her heart sank at the mortifying sight she witnessed.

Atop the gates, seated upon shoddily carved wooden spikes, there was a gruesome array of decapitated wolf, rat, and tiger heads. Their features were somewhat human-like, indicating that they were formerly slain lycanthropes whom have had their remains put up on display in mockery. Their eyes were wide open and rolled over, only exposing the whites, and their mouths were frozen in an eternal scream of agony as their tongues hung loosely out past their jaws. Remnant blood from these gory trophies had dripped down along the wooden supports of the gate, collected atop the archway, and fell into the dirt below her feet, staining it dark brown.

"Uriko! Are you okay?" Abner's voice released her from her trance-like state.

She felt tears welling up in the corners of her eyes, but held them back. Her stomach was turning, and it felt like she needed to throw up. She shoved him aside and bolted past the gates and into the city. She could hear her allies calling to her, but she did not respond. She wanted desperately to move as far away as she could from the awful spectacle.

In her uncoordinated and frantic sprint, she accidentally collided with something cold and hard. She was repelled backward by a wall of tempered steel, dazing her. She fell into the mud, and started to stand. Her eyes fell upon a large figure complete covered in ink-black steel plate armor, which covered the entire body in an imposing metal shroud. The sigil from before, the silhouette of the moon and mountain, was also carved into the armor at the breastplate. The armored knight looked down on her and gave her an empty glance, as she could not see any of the knights facial features through the closed visor. It then reached towards her, extending a gauntleted claw at her face.

 _No!_ Uriko slapped the hand aside, stumbled to her feet, and ran past the unknown entity. She draped the hood of her cloak back over her head, covering a majority of her face and her cat-like ears. She tucked her tail back behind the tails of her cloak, further masking her identity and animal-like features.

After some time of indiscriminately wandering through the unfamiliar, town, Uriko happened upon a large three-story building that displayed a large vertical wooden sign with the words "Silver Stag Inn and Tavern." Uriko clumsily pushed her way past the exiting crowd and the swinging double doors and approached a man standing behind a counter on the left side near the entrance. There were several keys dangling from hooks on the wall behind him.

"I would like a room," Uriko timidly spoke, her voice almost breaking near the end.

"Sure thing, miss!" The kindly old man replied. He slowly reached behind himself and retrieved a random key from the assortment on display. He then turned back to Uriko and lethargically handed the item to her hand. "You're in room three-oh-four. That'll be five silver pieces, missy!"

Uriko hastily reached forward and snatched the keys from the innkeeper's hands without a reply. She then threw down a single golden coin and dashed upstairs toward her room.

"Wait! You forgot your change!" She heard the kindly old man blurt out after her before his voice faded away altogether.

Uriko arrived at the door to her room. She awkwardly fumbled with the key, and after a couple of tries, slid the metal into the slot. She then turned it, releasing the lock, and entered the room, where she promptly slammed the door shut.

Once she was alone, she took some time to slow her breathing down in an attempt to calm her rapidly beating heart. She felt a cold sweat run down her back as her entire body trembled. She pressed her forehead against the grainy wood of the locked door, and felt tears running down her face.

"No, no, no," she repeated to herself as she tried to make the memories fade away. But they were clearer than ever after what she had seen.

"Uriko?" She recognized the voice which unexpectedly called out to her. She whipped around to see Abner standing in the window, the cold night air blowing at his back and hair. He jumped down and into the room. "What's the matter with you? Why did you run away?" He asked, concerned.

"Go away!" She dashed up to him and pushed him backwards with both hands.

Abner failed his arms as he was lifted off his feet and launched back into the open window. He sailed past over the open frame, but managed to grasp the edge before he fell out altogether. "This is the third floor, Uriko!" He strained out as he desperately clung onto the support with both hands.

Realizing what she had just done, she immediately rushed over and helped Abner back into the room and onto safe ground. Abner laid on the floor and sprawled his body across it, panting loudly in terror.

Uriko slumped back onto the edge of the hard single bed in the room. "What do you want, Abner?" She discreetly rubbed away the tears from her eyes.

"I was worried about you," Abner panted. "Why did you leave us all of the sudden?"

Uriko struggled to come up with a lie, but none were coming to mind, and she knew that her demeanor would give away her bluff. "I-I don't want to talk about it," she stammered. "It's complicated."

Abner looked like he wanted to say something, but he cut himself off before he spoke. He stood back up and started moving back towards the open window again. "I understand," he said with a slight nod. "Maybe we'll talk about this later," he started to move out, and placed a single foot firmly on the thin wooden platform.

"I don't want to stay here another second," Uriko uttered weakly. "But we have to look for Grelos. He could still be out there. And if he's still alive, we can't leave him behind."

"I know. We'll start first thing in the morning," Abner began to move out. His eyes squinted as he watched something out of Uriko's line of vision.

"Where are you going?" Uriko asked.

Abner turned back to face her with an eager look. "What? Did you want me to stay here?"

"No!" She sneered.

Abner let out a wheezing laugh. "I'm joking, Uriko. I do that from time to time."

Uriko shuddered at the cold night air, which had made the room less comfortable with each passing second it remained open. "Seriously, where are you going? It's night. Shouldn't you be resting?"

Abner continued to stare out onto the view of the rest of the town. "I can never sleep during my first night in a new city." He had a slight grin and a determined, mischievous look about his face. "Besides, it's darker than usual tonight. I'll feel right at home." He winked, placed both feet on the wooden bridge, and jumped off. "See you in the morning," he called out as he vanished from sight.

Uriko attempted to follow him, and poked her head out the window. Abner was nowhere to be seen. _How does he keep doing that?_ She thought, grumbling. She shifted her eyes to the town beyond.

It was hard to tell in the darkness what each individual home looked like, but she could discern their positions with the various lights lit across the cityscape. Various humans walked up and down the main road, conversing with one another. She could hear the splash of water across the street along with the creaking groan of a wooden wagon rolling across the street. The town appeared to slope upwards towards a large spire of rock and steel. At closer inspection, she could see the vague outline of the mountain and how closely it resembled the emblem on Lance, Frelick, and the mysterious knight's garb and armor, respectively. Atop the mountain, there appeared to be a large temple-like structure, but it was impossible to tell from a distance in such low light. She looked up at the night sky in an attempt to find the nurturing moon or some calming stars. But alas, she was left alone. Uriko eventually tired from sightseeing and closed the window, fastening the hinges together with the brass hook-shaped mechanism.

Uriko sat back against the wall beside the window, and curled up into her cloak. She shut her eyes and held them tightly, willing herself to forget. _Please, not again._ But in her mind's eye, all she could see where their headless corpses, stripped bare, and left to rot in the rising sun. There was a single greatsword plunged into the dirt with a silver core, and on the pommel was the symbol of the new moon.

 _I remember. I remember it all,_ she thought, tumbling into despair. Tears continued to pour from her tightly shut eyes and down her face like falling rainwater. Uriko slammed her head back against the thick wood of the wall behind her in a futile effort to jolt the vision out of her mind, but to no avail. Alone, and in the bitter cold darkness, Uriko hugged her knees and wept bitterly.


	7. A Restless Night

"Uriko!" Karus called out to her as she disappeared into the crowd. A subsequent rush of moving peasants, farmers, and traders swept him up and displaced him to one side, further disorienting him. The girl has run off for some peculiar reason, and appeared to be crying when he last saw her face. Unable to track her down, he stormed towards the city gate and back underneath the grisly spectacle. He immediately addressed to Frelick, whom up to now, seemed like a reasonable, if not slightly overly talkative person. "I find this disturbing display of carnage most unbecoming of knights."

Frelick looked confused and flustered. "I don't-what's going on? Did I offend someone?" He stammered.

"You've seriously upset Uriko," Karus felt concerned for her mental well-being, despite not having known her for very long.

Lance injected himself between Karus, as if shielding his friend. "First off, we're not knights. And secondly, we didn't place these up there."

"Heh heh," one guard snickered behind Karus. "They're a reminder to the Feral Hearts not to fuck with the New Moon Knights." He declared and spat to one side.

"Makes sense," Chrovan remarked, coldly. "During wartime, instilling fear in your enemies is a proven and worthwhile tactic."

Karus turned towards the laughing guard. "What's it to you, dog-man?" He said as he loudly chewed tobacco with an open mouth. Chunks of shorn brown leaves were churning around in his mouth, making a disgusting display and spewing forth an even more revolting scent.

Karus composed himself and spoke sternly, "That is an offensive and despicable display. Have you no honor or decency for the dead?"

"Watch your tongue, mongrel. Unless you aren't planning to keep it!" He threatened.

"You should not act like savages!" Karus continued to lecture, becoming aggravated. "I demand that you take them down at once!"

"If you love the were-scum so much, why don't you sleep outside tonight like a dog?" Another guard backed up his friend, further antagonizing Karus.

"Yeah, learn some manners, you filthy mutt."

Frelick stood beside Karus, in an attempt to dispel the tension. "Come on, guys. These are good people; they saved a civilian, remember? There's no need to call them names."

Three of the gate guardians had broken formation and were now closing in all around Karus. Still seething with anger, he grasped the shaft of his staff tightly, ready to defend himself if necessary.

"I know everyone's very tired, but there's no need to fight," Frelick was attempting, but utterly failing to defuse the situation. "Why don't we-"

"Move aside, you little shit," one of the guards forcefully placed his hand over Frelick's face and shoved him aside. Frelick clumsily fell backwards into the mud, landing hard on the back of his head. He whimpered in pain and clutched the back of his skull, and his hands came back with some red entwined between the fingers.

Lance stepped in, cutting off the closest guard's menacing advance. "You do not touch my brother," he seethed. "Do that again, and I'll make you eat the goddamn floor. Do you understand me?" He scowled at the guard and clenched his fist, ready to make good on his threat.

Lance was shorter, but had a noticeably more muscular build than any of the three. And in his anger, he was considerably more threatening than before.

"Pfft," the guard started backing up. "Go ahead and help your little princess," he mocked.

"I'll let Adamance know that you're escorting these strangers. If this lot cause any trouble, it's your asses," another one warned.

Lance remained silent as his face still frozen in a scowl. Once the three had resumed their posts, he knelt over to help Frelick to his feet. His brother's backside had become caked with a layer of mud and dirt.

Frelick looked embarrassed and would not make eye contact with Karus.

"Come on, kid," Lance grabbed him by the chin. "Let's get you cleaned up." He turned back to the others. "You three, come with me," he commanded harshly.

Karus and Chrovan hesitated for a moment, and then followed suit.

"Hey, where's Abner?" Lance asked.

They all examined their surroundings for a moment, and suddenly realized that the shifty-eyed individual had mysteriously vanished, yet again.

Chrovan simply shrugged. "Slippery devil does that from time to time."

"He better not cause any trouble," Lance warned them. "I'll escort you myself to the Silver Stag Inn and Tavern. Then you'll be out of my hair."

"Who is Adamance?" Chrovan asked. "Both you two and the gate guards mentioned another name."

"Adamance is Pardue's right-hand man," Frelick replied. "He is a decorated soldier, master swordsman, and avid lycanthrope slayer."

"I'd like to meet him personally, if possible," Chrovan declared. "Sounds like an remarkable individual." He seemed impressed by his list.

"I doubt you will," Frelick interjected. "He's never in one place for long. Pardue sends him on a lot of missions off-site."

"That's enough, Frelick!" Lance harshly shushed him, as if Frelick has divulged too much.

 _Keep your secrets,_ Karus thought. He dreaded learning more, for it would probably only refuel his smoldering anger from the preceding confrontation.

When they finally arrived at their destination, Lance opened the door for them. "Here you are: The Silver Stag Inn and Tavern."

Karus gazed up at the three-story tall wooden building and the beheld the chipped and sun-bleached sign with the aforementioned name. Beside the sign there the carved visage of a mighty stag reared up on its hind legs and baring its sharp horns, as if ready to charge. There were some broken windows in the rooms on the higher floors, and flickering candlelight was causing the interior to glow brightly in the night.

Lance continued monotonously, "You'll find a decent room for five silvers. Enjoy your stay." He began to move away from the group. He was in a foul mood, and was making no attempt to hide it.

"But these are the first new faces we've seen in weeks!" Frelick rose to protest. He appeared to have entirely forgotten about his injury, and had returned to his usual, chipper self all over again. " Who knows what stories they have to tell?"

"I don't care, Frelick," Lance snapped back coldly. "I'm going to get some rest before they have us watching the walls for four freezing hours." He lightly flicked the back of his brother's head, causing him to wince in pain. "And shouldn't you get that wound checked too? Don't dilly-dally."

Frelick remembered the pain and grabbed his wound again. "Oh, alright," he said in a disappointed, almost child-like voice.

Karus felt a slight hint of sympathy for the lad. "Oh, let me help you with that." He stepped closer to Frelick and placed one hand on his shoulder and another on the back of his head, covering the blood-crusted gash.

Frelick flinched, and shut his eyes tightly in pain.

Lance sharply grabbed Karus' arm at the wrist and firmly pulled it away from Frelick's wound. "Hey, wait. What are you doing?" He had become protective again.

"I can help," Karus replied with a kind smile. "It's the least I can do for escorting us to your town."

Lance started intently into Karus' eyes for a few seconds, as if trying to sense his intentions. Karus maintained his friendly demeanor and waited. After some hesitation, Lance released his grip and Karus placed his palm back against Frelick's messy red hair.

Karus muttered an incantation in his people's forgotten language, and went silent as he focused on the red spot. Spiritual energy surged from the aether, using Karus' body as a conduit, and flowed into the top of Frelick's head, mending his wound. The spectacle lasted for a few seconds, and eventually subsided. Finally Karus removed his hand. "How do you feel now, Frelick?"

Frelick reached back and touched the space where the wound had been. As expected, he did not show any signs of pain. He rubbed the spot, and looked at his fingers. Not a single drop of blood was to be seen.

"That was incredible!" Frelick exclaimed, his eyes incredulous with wonder and amazement. "How did you do that?"

"I channel the energy of the primal spirits, Frelick," Karus explained proudly. "I can command them to harm my enemies, as well as heal my allies."

Lance cracked a smile. "Thank you, Karus," he said, sounding friendly for the first time since they met. "Now let's go, Frelick." The pair began walking further up the road and deeper into the town.

Karus and Chrovan both paid the innkeeper five silvers to stay the night in separate rooms. But before turning in, they decided to pay for a hot meal as well, and sat across from one another as they waited.

After several minutes, a wench returned to their table, balancing large circular platter which held their food and drink. "Here ya go," she said as she set the various trays and dishes down.

"Thank you, very much," Karus replied politely.

"Many thanks," Chrovan said.

Karus looked down on his food. There was a wooden tray partitioned into rectangular sections of various sizes. The largest quadrant contained a large, sizzling reddish brown sausage which was bleeding orange oil. There was a piece of sourdough bread with a toasted, brown, and dusty crust. And there was a moderately sized hunk of yellow cheese occupying the remainder of the tray. A wooden mug filled with goat milk had been placed beside him as well. The smell of the hot meal wafted up to Karus' sensitive nose, causing him to instinctively salivate.

Karus shut his eyes took a moment to ease his mind. The hectic battle and escape from the forest had made him light-headed, and he needed nourishment. Eventually, he opened his eyes again, blinked away the white spots, and started to eat his supper.

The meal was serviceable for such a modest establishment. The cheese had a pungent aroma, but the taste more than compensated for it. The bread was, as he anticipated, stale, but it had a decent sour flavor to it. The sausage was delicious, albeit spicier than he would've liked. Several minutes back, and Karus sat back with a full, satisfied belly.

Chrovan had also finished his meal, and was now reclining on his chair. The two had not spoken a word throughout the duration of their meal; Karus did not know what to talk to him about, so he decided to remain silent.

"What are you planning to do in the morning?" Karus inquired, trying to start up a conversation.

"I'm going back into the forest," Chrovan declared. "If Grelos is still alive, I need to find him."

The bar wench returned to refill their depleted drinks and clear their table of empty dishes and bowls.

Karus felt relieved to hear those words. Chrovan appeared to have been stone-cold at first, but his apparently callousness was merely sensible battlefield tactics. Karus could not accept it either, but he understood. "Those woods are dangerous, and full of enemies. I can come with you, if you'd like," Karus offered.

"I would appreciate that," Chrovan agreed. "I'm also assuming that Abner and Uriko will not be joining us." He placed the greatsword he had acquired earlier onto the now mostly vacated table, and began examining it.

"What do you mean? Uriko would probably help us," Karus mentioned. Given the half-elf's frequency of disappearance, Karus admittedly did not have much faith in Abner either, and made no mention of him.

"She's afraid," Chrovan started, as he simultaneously inspected the large weapon. "I've seen it before. Some people, when you need them the most, will freeze. Some are just too soft for this line of work." He seemed to be speaking from experience.

"Uriko's tough; she was handling herself in combat earlier today. You saw it yourself," Karus defended her.

"Yes, I saw. I also saw her running away from the dead. She can't stomach the true horror of warfare." He ran a single finger gently along the blade's edge, testing it.

"And you can?" Karus felt his lingering hatred bubbling up again. "To desecrate them like that-" He paused to regain his composure. "It was downright barbaric."

"I don't like it either," Chrovan explained himself. "But a true warrior does whatever is necessary to win the war. And fear will always be a powerful tool." He returned the greatblade into its scabbard and stood back up. "Perhaps I can convince some of the off-duty guards to accompany us in our search. They seem to have no love for the werebeasts that plague the forest."

Karus crossed him arms, feeling conflicted. Chrovan did not mince words, and he found the honestly weirdly refreshing, but he didn't want to believe him. He stood up as well, prepared to rest for the night.

As the two approached the stairway, a single man blocked their path. "How are you doing, tonight?" He slurred. The man was about Chrovan's height and was wearing a dark blue tunic with rolled-up white sleeves, black pants, and mud-stained brown leather boots.

"Excuse me," Chrovan said nonchalantly as he contorted his frame to slide past him.

The stranger slammed one arm against the wall, blocking off Chrovan's attempt to squeeze past. "Not so fast," he voice had become more stern.

"Let me pass," Chrovan did not humor the possibly drunk man, and frankly told him to move aside.

The stranger continued, his voice becoming bolder. "That's a mighty fine weapon you have there. Where did you get that sword?" He inquired.

Upon a closer look, Karus saw that he had short messy blonde hair, bushy eyebrows, green eyes, and bony cheeks seated under a strong square jaw. There was emerging golden stubble all around his face, extending from one ear to the other, covering his cheeks and mouth.

Chrovan ignored him and raised one hand. "Get out of the way, you drunk." He placed it on the stranger's shoulder and started to push him aside.

To his surprise, the man maintained his stance, resisting the initial push. He then reached his opposite arm across the front of his body and over Chrovan's arm. With a fluid motion he grabbed and twisted Chrovan wrist, and moved it to one side, forcing Chrovan into an awkward stance with his arm outstretched and elbow locked.

Chrovan let out a grunt of pain, and clenched his teeth.

 _That's no drunkard_ , Karus though. His body was far too coordinated to be under the influence of alcohol. He dashed forward, in an attempt to assist Chrovan in the brawl.

The hostile stranger lifted his boot and thrust it into Karus' gut. The impact knocked the air out of his body and threw him backwards. He landed against a nearby table, knocking over food and drink items. The shocked patrons parted away from Karus and the ensuing melee. He grasped his stomach in pain and attempted to catch his breath. _Whoever this is, he has training._

Chrovan used his incredible strength to reverse the wrist grab, and reared his left hand back to throw a punch. He roared as he shot his armored fist at the thug's face.

In an unprecedented display of agility and might, the mysterious stranger intercepted Chrovan's punch and caught the strike with an open palm. He then closed his fingers around it, effectively disabling both of Chrovan's limbs. Without missing a beat, he shuffled closer and rammed his knee into Chrovan's stomach.

Chrovan gagged once from the sheer force of the attack, fell to his knees, and began coughing.

Karus looked around at the other patrons, and realized that they were all keeping their distance. None of them had even offered to help Karus up to his feet. They appeared to be frightened of the man, and were not uttering single word of protest. _Who is this man?_

The unnamed man stood over Chrovan as he knelt, and pulled out the silvered greatblade from the scabbard Chrovan had slung onto his back. The stranger paced around the area, and waved the sword through the air with a single hand, eventually resting the tip on the ground. "I recognized this elegant weapon," he began. "because I personally grant one to each and every one of my knights." He pointed the tip of the blade down towards Chrovan, who was now looking up at him with gritted teeth. "And you are definitely not one of my knights," he said condemningly.

Karus caught his breath, and spoke in protest. "We found it in the woods on a dead soldier clad in black!" He figured diplomacy would be the best way to stop the fight, as they were clearly outmatched by this man with just the two of them. "We didn't know it was important; we thought it was just another weapon."

Chrovan strained out some words, "So, you're Adamance." He was taking long and shallow breaths.

"Indeed," Adamance replied. "And you are unworthy of this weapon."

"We meant no disrespect," Karus continued. "Just take it back, and leave us in peace."

"Very well," Adamance accepted, lower the blade point. He then walked closer to Chrovan and yanked off the scabbard and leather belt. "I'll be taking this back," he declared after he sheathed the weapon. "You gentlemen have a nice stay." At last, he stormed out of the establishment without another word.

The was a brief moment of dead silence before the other patrons resumed their usual activities. All of them did their best to ignore Karus and Chrovan, and barely made eye contact or even addressed them as they walked past the duo.

Karus rushed over to help Chrovan to his feet, but his comrade had already recovered.

Chrovan raised a hand to push Karus away. "I'm fine. I don't need help," he said, sounding wounded.

Karus decided to let his ally keep his pride, and walked past him up the stairs towards his room without saying another word.

Karus walked up a two flight of stairs, entered the fifth room on the left side. There was a single bed with white sheets tucked away in the corner, next to a lone nightstand with a lit oil-lamp inside. There was an uncomfortable stillness in the room, as the window was locked shut. Weary from the day of travel and expending his shaman powers, he decided to clear his mind and laid on the bed. _Maybe I can rest tonight,_ he thought.

For several minutes, Karus twisted and turned in his bed, attempting to sleep. Alas, he was unable to relax. _Still can't sleep,_ he thought, feeling defeated. He kicked off the sheets, feeling overheated again. To his disappointment, Crescent's Peak had turned out to be yet another hostile place; the outside area had the threat of being ripped apart by lycanthropes, and the town itself was full of paranoid religious zealots. After growing increasingly uncomfortable in his stuffy room, he decided to leave. He pulled the hood over his head this time, in an attempt to obscure his dog-like ears and other features. _Maybe some more fresh air will help,_ he thought as he stepped out into the cold night.

The streets were mostly deserted, save for a few stragglers and passed-out drunks. The occasional beggars were huddled up together beside campfires. There were some soldiers patrolling the streets with lanterns lit, and they were all visibly armed. Karus noticed the occasional presence of knights clad in black plate armor, and made sure to avoid eye-contact. _I'd hate to run into Adamance again,_ he thought. After some time, he wandered into the residential district, which was completely deserted.

Karus noticed that the ground occasionally sparkled, as if reflecting the moonlight. Upon closer inspection, he realized that the earth was littered with minute silver particles. It turned out that the guards routinely sprinkled silver powder all around the town. _Makes sense,_ Karus thought. If the lycanthropes every attempted to sneak into the city under human disguises, they would eventually succumb to the negative effects of the silver over time. _That's a lot of silver, though. Where is it all coming from?_ He pondered, getting lost in his thoughts again.

Something bumped into his leg from behind, startling him.

Karus spun around and looked down. A small child, no older than nine, had wandered outside and fallen over at his feet. She was lying prone on the floor, and struggling to stand. Karus rushed to help her up, and she murmured in confusion as she feebly struggled with him.

"It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you," Karus said calmly. Judging by her disorientation and uncoordinated flailing, she had probably woken from sleep walking when she fell over. "Shh, you're safe. I'm not going to hurt you." He said soothingly.

The child eventually calmed and looked up at him. She had bright blue eyes, long black hair, and an oblong face with high cheeks. She gasped when her eyes met with his.

Karus realized that his hood had slipped off his head, and his pointed ears were now showing. He feared how the child would react, given how the other villagers responded to his wolf-like features. _Please don't scream._

Unexpectedly, the child reached out and gently placed a hand on his head behind the ear, and smiled. "You have dog ears!" She said happily.

"I have what, now?" Karus was not expecting this reaction.

The child laughed as she patted his head, seeming rather amused by his canine-like features he inherited from his longtooth shifter bloodline.

Karus humored her for a moment, and allowed her to continue petting him. He then gently stopped her and asked, "You shouldn't be up and about this late. Where do you live?"

The girl spun around once to inspect her surroundings. Eventually, she pointed at a nearby house. "There is is," she said.

"Whew!" Karus remarked, relieved. "Good thing you woke up earlier. Imagine how far you could've gotten!" He joked. "Let's get you back home." He started escorting the unnamed child towards the establishment.

Karus stopped to pick up a toy that was laying on the road. It appeared to be a knitted wolf doll with large black button eyes. "Is this yours?" He waved out in front of the girl.

The girl quickly grabbed it with both hands and started hugging it, as if she had been reunited with a prized item.

 _Cute_ , Karus thought, slightly amused. They finally arrived at the house, which had the front door slightly ajar.

"Here you go," Karus said as he opened the door for her. "Now, go back to sleep." He playfully rustled her hair as she walked back through the door.

"Thank you, mister," she yawned before closing the door. Karus could hear the sounds of bolts being slide into place and chains being fastened on the other side. As he walked away and continued to wander, he wondered, _Cute kid. I never asked what her name was_.

Karus could see a pair of armored folk approaching him. The one of the left was holding a lantern, which shrouded their faces in shadow whilst blinding Karus with oncoming lights.

"Hark! Who goes there?" A voice called out.

 _That's a familiar voice._

"Sir! It is not safe to be out and about after dark. There are-Karus?" Another familiar voice started speaking, and interrupted itself.

Karus' eyes adjusted to the lantern light, and saw Lance and Frelick standing in front of him. "Hi, you two!" He greeted them.

"What are you doing out here so late?" Lance asked him.

"I couldn't sleep," Karus answered truthfully. "So I thought I'd get to know the town better on my own."

"That's dangerous," Lance reprimanded him. "Once in awhile, a particularly brave lycanthrope will sneak in." He raised the lantern to get a better look of Karus' face. "And someone with your complexion will especially arouse suspicion."

"I understand," Karus said with a nod. "I'll be heading back to my room, then."

"We're making a round now," Frelick interjected. "If you wanted to see the town, you could follow us on the way back to the inn," he offered.

Lance seemed annoyed, and pulled Frelick to one side. "We're city guards, not tour guides," he whispered to him sharply.

"No one's stupid enough to attack us, especially with the New Moon Knights back in town!" Frelick reasoned.

Karus looked away, trying not to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Come on, Lance. How often do we have anyone else to talk to?" Frelick pleaded.

Lance groaned in frustration. "This is only going to make our search more difficult," he declared, but had clearly given up on trying to dissuade his brother. He turned to Karus and reluctantly said, "Come along, now. We'll show you around, and take you back to the inn."

Frelick laughed. "See, Karus? I told you he was a nice guy!" He declared smugly as he leaned onto Lance's shoulder.

"Shut up, Frelick," he said as he batted him away playfully.

The trio started marching together through the remainder of the city. They circled once around the base of the largest hill, which had a large temple at its peak. The temple was a white spire of rock that flaunted several immaculate carvings and sculptures of dragons on its exterior. Inside, presumably, was the holy man referred to as Pardue. En route they passed by the rear gate, which was also heavily guarded and well-lit. All throughout the trek, relick was frenetically speaking adulations about the knights and their leader, and Karus was attempting his best to keep up. But the information dump was far too dense and verbose, so eventually Karus resigned to simply nodding politely from time to time.

Lance, on the other hand, was silent and appeared to be constantly searching for something. His eyes were scanning the surrounding buildings as well as the rooftops.

"What are you looking for, anyway?" Karus inquired.

"Potential burglars, spies, troublemakers," Frelick listed off. "There has been an influx of suspicious and criminal activity in the town these past weeks."

"Like what?" Karus prodded deeper.

"Break-ins, mostly," Lance answered. "But they rarely ever take anything."

"When and where was the latest event?"

"It happened at Trisha's shop, earlier tonight," Frelick explained. "There was a hooded figure on the roof, and another one sulking in a nearby alleyway! We split up to chase them both down, but they both got away!" He said, disappointed.

 _Abner?_ The rooftop antics implicated the half-elf, but he was doubtful that the rogue had acquired an accomplice in such a short time. _Please don't get us thrown into a cell on our first night,_ Karus thought, dreading repercussions. "Who's Trisha?"

"She's the local jeweler. She's the sister of the woman you rescued."

"Oh. I see." Karus recalled Lance's passing remark from earlier. "Why was she out and alone in the woods?"

"Her husband, a man named Travis, was missing. She probably went on her own to find him," Lanced detailed. "By now, he's been missing for two days. I doubt he's still alive, or human."

The three marched together in silence for several more minutes. The air had become colder, and a slight wind had picked up as well, causing their lights to flicker.

"How long have you lived here?" Karus asked, trying to start up a conversation.

"All of our lives," Frelick replied.

"Do you have any family?"

"Nope. Lance is the only family I've got left," Frelick said with a somber smile.

"Both of our parents were killed by the Feral Hearts," Lance finally spoke. "We grew up together in the town orphanage."

"And we were inseparable ever since," Frelick added.

"I see." Karus had the feeling that there was friction between these two and the rest of the villagers, judging by their earlier interactions.

"One day we're both going to leave this awful place," Lance let out. "Once this horrible and bloody conflict is resolved, we can end this pointless barbarism and move on with our lives."

"I see you don't approve of their ways either," Karus remarked. He was grateful to find another pair of souls that did not revel in the carnage and grotesqueries of war.

"I distrust lycanthropes and their minions, but I never approved of such a gruesome display. Returning cruelty to our enemies only brings us down to their level," Lance decreed, finally smiling.

"These are troubled times," Frelick stated as he trust his spear into the sky in triumph, "and the people are afraid. But we'll protect them. It's our duty!"

Lance's honorable ways, coupled with Frelick's naiive optimism was oddly refreshing to Karus, and caused him to crack a wide grin.

Karus spotted the faint silhouette of a man scaling a nearby building. The figure was leaning against the wall in an attempt to hide his presence as he scrounged for whatever footholds were available. His movements were eerily silent, but Karus had acquired him by sight. As the group approached, it was only a matter of time before he would be seen. The cloak was familiar, and Karus gulped when he realized who the culprit was. _Dammit, Abner,_ Karus thought, growing increasingly nervous with each step. He weighed the choice in his head, and decided to assist his ally.

Karus discretely summoned Kaiba in the shadows nearby. "I need a diversion," Karus said telepathically to him.

"I am a several millennia old spirit. And you want me to assist you in trickery?" Kaiba shot back, sounding annoyed.

"Neither is sleeping in a cell," Karus pleaded. "Just do this for me, please."

"This is not dignified," Kaiba growled in resignation.

With the diversion in place, Karus placed both hands in front of Lance and Frelick, stopping their advance. "Hey, I think I heard something over there," he bluffed as he pointed towards where Kaiba had been summoned..

Lance drew his sword and Frelick tightened both hands around his spear shaft.

"What was it? I didn't hear anything," Lance admitted.

"It was down this way. I thought I heard footsteps," Karus said aloud, signalling Kaiba to begin marching audibly down the street.

"I heard it too! Let's go!" Lance quickened his pace and ran towards the sound.

Frelick followed suit. "You're not getting away this time," he said, excited.

Karus lightly jogged behind him, and saw that Abner had finally completed his climb and was on the rooftop, leaning against a smokestack.

 _Thank you,_ Abner seemed to say with a kind appreciative gesture.

 _You owe me one,_ Karus mouthed back to him.


	8. Echoes

Uriko awoke to the screeching sound of a distant rooster. Her eyes abruptly met the blinding light of the sun through her east-facing window, causing her to throw the sheets over her own head. She rolled over her tear-soaked pillow to shield herself from the light. Eventually, she grew warmer under the veil and kicked off her sheets. Uriko felt lethargic and did not want to move, and stared at the empty wall that had her silhouette cast over it. As she sat motionless, facing away from the sun, she replayed the memories in head. They were half-remembered dreams to her before, but after her experience the prior night, they had become clearer than ever.

Uriko had the entire night to remember every detail of how her people had been massacred. She was just returning from a long and arduous rite of passage for her people; she was tasked with surviving in the wilderness with only her wits and grit for a full year. At the tender age of eight, she ventured into the nearby jungle alone, and learned how to adapt and thrive. The task was difficult; she had encountered several close calls with death, but she endured it to the end. On the ninth month, on that terrible day, she found one of her own kin, heavily injured and near death. Before the poor could utter a single word, he had passed away in Uriko's arms. She frantically ran back to her village, desperately clinging to hope, but it was soon snuffed out like a candle in a windstorm. Her entire home, and everyone she had ever known, had been destroyed. The earth had been stripped bare and scorched by flame, and most of her people had been viley descreated. She was alone forevermore that day. Uriko spent the next several days alone among their rotting corpses, waiting for hunger, thirst, or some merciful beast to reunite her with her family. Instead, some passerby elves found her and took her in. Having survived, she occupied her mind with the teachings of elven lore and magic. She even managed to pick up their language and accent over time. She vowed she would live on, restore her people, and if she found the party responsible, claim her vengeance.

The visage of the greatsword, which she could still see even with her waking eyes, filled her with contempt and spite. The elves, after burying her people, could not find any other trace of the marauding party other than the charred and broken remnants of a second sword with a silvered core.

 _It's a small lead,_ Uriko pondered. _But it's all I have._ She wiped another stray tear from her puffy and bloodshot eye. _Are you here?_ She sat up, finally adjusted to the brightness of the new dawn. Uriko clenched both her clawed fists and breathed out loudly while clenching her abdominal muscles, shaking out her anxiety. After some more light stretching and limbering up, she washed her face and headed out of her room with her belongings slung over her back.

Uriko went downstairs and broke her fast with some lightly sweetened steamed oats mixed with warmed milk. Her meal was adequately filling and improved her mood, despite her restless night. With a full belly and a heart filled with determination, she emerged from the increasingly crowded establishment and into the bustling main road.

The farmers were mobilizing in full, shuffling around various foodstuffs and equipment. The bellowing of cattle, scraping of metal, rhythmic spinning of wheels, and indistinct chattering of people filled the air with noise.

Uriko ignored the cacophony and searched around for her comrades. _I shouldn't have run off. How am I supposed to find them, now?_ She regretted getting separated from them, but remained optimistic that they would be reunited soon. _They don't exactly blend into a crowd, besides Abner. I'll probably run into one of them in no time._

In the meantime, Uriko decided to restock some of her spell ingredients at the local apothecary, as well as peruse the local shops for other useful knickknacks and supplies. She replenished her food and drink rations at well, in anticipation for the struggles ahead. Her knapsack had become heavy and tightly packed in little time, but she new full well that minor discomfort was nothing compared to being stranded in the wilderness inadequately equipped.

Uriko arrived at the local artificer shop, which was a simple wood and straw shanty with ornate shells strung up as beads covering the entrance. She parted the noisy barrier and was immediately met by a woman with large, bushy blonde hair and giant magnified goggles.

Uriko let out a startled yet and jumped backwards.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" The woman blurted out awkwardly as she dropped a large bag. It made a loud noise at it landed onto the ground and knocked up a cloud of dust. There appeared to be some papers with drawings, similar to maps, poking out of the open satchel. The woman removed her goggles, which had given her a freakish bug-eyed appearance, and recomposed herself. "I didn't mean to startle you!" She stuttered.

Uriko calmed herself and inspected the strange woman. She had amusingly bushy red hair which puffed with the humidity, forming a frizzled trapezoid around her head. She wore an elaborate and multi colored woven dress which sported alternating patterns of blue, green, and red. The designs appeared tribal, but Uriko was unable to discern the origin. She appeared to be holding some nondescript glass orb with a brass ring surrounding the sphere. She quickly placed it onto a nearby table among other mysterious artifacts, and dusted herself off. She then grabbed the back and slid it underneath a nearby table, out of sight.

"Welcome to Eclipse Trinkets!" She greeted Uriko with a warm smile. "I am Trisha. I am the owner of this establishment!"

"Nice to meet you, my name is Uriko."

"You look like a new face!" She remarked, her face lit up with interest. "What brings you to our humble town?"

"We came across this town last night. We escorted a local who was lost in the forest," Uriko regaled her account of the past night. She looked up and down the various shelves, which all housed all manner of peculiar artifacts. There was not particular theme to the entire shop; it was just magical junk from all over the world.

"You were the ones who rescued Cynthia?" The woman had spontaneously become misty-eyed.

"Um, are you okay?"

The woman moved forward and threw her arms around Uriko, holding her tightly.

 _What the hell is going on, here?_ Uriko stood frozen in confusion.

Trisha grabbed Uriko by both shoulders and shook her once, further disorienting her. She started deeply into Uriko's eyes and spoke, choking back tears. "You saved my sister last night! I was so worried! I thought I would never see her again!"

"You're Cynthia's sister?" Uriko finally understood. "Okay, this makes much more sense now." She awkwardly pried off Trisha's bony hands. "It was nothing, really."

"I must repay your somehow," Trisha declared.

"It's alright. I-"

Trisha did not pay attention to Uriko at all. She immediately rushed back into her shop and began rummaging across the countless shelves, boxes, and surfaces for a suitable item.

Uriko passed the time by inspecting the nearby tables. There were several open boxes displaying rows of ornate rings. "What do you specialize in?" Uriko asked.

Uriko could hear the sudden sound of glass breaking, followed by more metallical shuffling. "I'm capable of enchanting a number of objects," Trisha shouted out from under a nearby table. "But I mostly specialize in crafting jewelry."

Uriko waited awkwardly for a another minute, not saying another word.

Trisha eventually emerged from behind her junk, holding a small black lacquered box with a silver rim at the opening. It was a jewel case of some sort. Trisha approached Uriko and opened it, revealing a velvet red lined interior and a single necklace. The trinket was composed of a simple silvered chain which attached to an ellipsoid of amber. In the center of the flawless amber gem, there was some red liquid inside. "This might help!" She presented it to Uriko.

"What is it?" Uriko held the amber necklace in front of her eyes, admiring its warm golden-brown glow.

"It's a very powerful counter-curse potion," Trisha started. "It will purge a single body of all malevolent entities. It may come in handy during a pinch!" She closed the box and tossed it behind herself.

Uriko was uncertain whether she should accept the gift. "Are you sure? This is far too generous."

"I insist!" Trisha would not budge. "It's the least I can do for what you've done for me."

Uriko was still somewhat curious. "What was your sister doing alone in the woods?"

"She was looking for M-" Trisha started speaking and abruptly halted, as if she realized she had disclosed something she shouldn't have. She started fake coughing, attempting to stop herself. Once she had caught her breath, she explained, "she was looking for her husband. Travis. He's been missing for a few days now."

"I'm sorry to hear," Uriko offered condolences, despite doubting that anyone could survive alone in the woods for a prolonged period of time.

"We'll be fine," Trisha replied, oddly optimistic. "We have each other now, thanks to you."

Uriko smiled, filled with a sense of accomplishment. She unlatched the pendant and placed it around her neck, finally tucking it under her clothing. "Thanks! I appreciate it."

"Farewell, Uriko!"

As Uriko concluded her shopping, she could hear the sounds of ringing metal nearby, which drew her attention. She saw that a blacksmith and his several helpers were working a forge, and crafting some metal object. They were rhythmically hammering the red-hot bar of steel as sparks flew out with each successive strike. Uriko approached to get a better look, only stopping when the intense heat repelled her. _How in the world do they handle it?_ She thought, amazed at how they could still work despite standing near a raging inferno.

After they had finished crafting the blade, the blacksmith approached a narrow barrel unknown liquid while carefully grasping the red blade with a pair of iron tongs. With a smooth motion, he plunged the heated metal stick into the liquid, causing it to bubble and steam. After a few seconds, he removed it from the viscous fluid and beheld a single smoking sword blade. He finally handed it over to an apprentice for additional grinding and polishing.

The blacksmith moved out from under his roof and into the main road to cool himself. He pulled out a ragged old cloth and began to wipe his wrinkled brow.

Uriko decided this would be the best time to approach him, and beckoned to him. "Hello, my name is Uriko. Are you the local blacksmith?"

The man pocketed his sweaty rag and gave out a hearty laugh. "The one and only blacksmith! My name is Yorrick!" He declared proudly as he reached out and shook her hand. "Pleased to make your acquaintance!"

Uriko struggled to ignore the griminess of his sweat-soaked hands and strained out her inquiry. "Thank you. I'm looking for some information about a greatsword with a silver core. One of my allies found one in the forest on a dead soldier yesterday."

"The most unfortunate." The man nodded as Uriko recounted the additional details.

"Who produced these silvered weapons?" She asked.

"I do!" Yorrick proudly declared.

Uriko's entire upper body tensed up in response. She felt her spite bubbling up inside here again.

"I've been making the silvered weapons these folks been using to protect the town for some time now!" He paused to wipe off more perspiration from the patches of thin white hair that flanked the bald spot on the top of his skull. "Pardue and his New Moon Knights commissioned me to make them a while back, and I've been swimming in coins ever since!"

"When did you start making them?" Uriko prodded deeper.

"Mayhaps fifteen or sixteen years ago?" He scratched his head as he strained himself to remember. "It was when the holy man first came to the city. Mentioned something about needing weapons for god's work." He started to ramble.

Uriko grew impatient, and raised her paw, interrupting him. "That's very well, mister. But I need to know who commissioned you first."

"I don't recall; it was one of them black armored folk," he answered as he rubbed off some grease from his hands onto his thick apron. "He didn't take off his helmet, and I never got a name."

 _So he's one of them_ , Uriko thought, growing increasingly aggravated. "Thanks for your time," she grumbled as she turned away to continue her trek through the market.

Distracted by her surroundings, Uriko immediately bumped into Abner, and he caught her with both his hands.

"Woah there, Uriko!" Abner laughed. "Where's the fire?"

Finally seeing another familiar face filled Uriko with relief. "Behind me, technically," Uriko quickly remarked, pointing to the blazing forge.

"Hey, you made a joke!" Abner smiled. "So, I take it you're feeling better?" He shifted to one side to avoid colliding with a passerby carrying a wooden crate.

Uriko nodded, realized that she had fully recovered from her unpleasant evening, and was filled with determination. "Definitely."

"Good. We're gonna need that gusto to make it out of those woods alive," Abner said with a wink and a click of his tongue. Uriko noticed that Abner's knapsack was considerably more packed than the last time she saw him.

Uriko rolled her eyes and disregarded it. _I don't even want to know what you were doing all night,_ she thought. "Let's find Grelos and get out of this place," she decreed as she started marching towards the main gate, away from the overcrowded market plaza.

"Do you honestly believe he survived through the night?" Abner said, suddenly sounding somber. "The people here are terrified of the woods. Apparently, most who get lost in it never return."

"Grelos is very strong," Uriko responded, vividly remembering how savagely he fought back in the Fallcrest tavern and the Lamenting Woods. He was a belligerent fellow, but dependable and tenacious. "I believe."

"Fair enough." Abner walked briskly alongside her.

After a few minutes passed, Uriko started talking again. "So, did you steal anything worthwhile?" She asked.

"Certainly," Abner started. "I-" He halted when he fully realized the question he just answered.

Uriko gave him a smug smirk. "Go on."

"Well played," Abner started. "I procured," he enunciated, "some useful items for the upcoming trip." He sifted through his equipment bag and pulled out some random items. "We'll be prepared this time." He pulled out some vials containing a shimmering grey fluid. "Liquid silver," he explained. "In case we get into another scuffle with the locals."

Eventually, they passed by the tavern and the barracks, finally arriving at where the main gate would be. They ran into another large uproarious crowd of people, who all appeared to be facing in one direction. The people had crowded around some sort of podium area. Uriko had recalled rushing past it, but never got a good glimpse of it the previous night.

Atop the wooden platform, Uriko could see a black knight holding onto a restrained man. The shackled prisoner has his arms tied behind his back, and a piece of cloth wrapped tightly around his mouth as a gag. His hair was black, bushy, and messy, and reached his shoulders. One eyelid was purple and swollen shut, and there were bruises and crusted blood all across his face and skin. He was adorned with tattered rags which were soaked in sweat and blood. To his immediate right, there was wooden block at about waist height with a semicircular indent. Beside the block, furthest on the right, there was a grotesquely fat man with a large black hood draped over his head, obscuring his features. He also wore a bloodied apron and large black leather boots, and his hands were clenched tightly around a massive double-headed axe. Uriko's heart sank when she finally realized what this event was.

"Today, we purge this town of another impurity!" A female voice bellowed out from beneath the inky-black helmet. The blackguard shook the prisoner once by the restrains, causing the hapless fellow to grunt in pain.

The people all around Uriko cheered in raucous support. Some of them flung various foodstuffs towards the podium, pelting the condemned man.

The knight sharply kicked the man at the back of the knee, causing him to buckle over, landing headfirst into the indent.

The convicted man struggled in his restraints, but was unable to break free. He seemed to be pleading for mercy, but his words were muffled by the cloth around his mouth. His eyes were awash in desperate terror.

"Prepare to face oblivion, wolf-man!" The crier taunted as the executioner raised his axe.

Uriko could not bear to watch or hear anymore. She turned away, waiting for the event to pass.

Abner continued staring forward and observing, frowning in contempt. The crowd suddenly went completely silent in anticipation. Abner grimaced as a loud slashing sound rung out from the podium, followed by an audible thud. The crowd roared loudly in response.

A few minutes passed, and the crowd gradually dispersed. Soon there was only Abner, Uriko, and a few stragglers. Uriko looked back towards the podium, and saw that the block and surrounding wooden planks had become stained red with blood.

Uriko took some time to calm her breathing.

Abner put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"The sooner we leave this place, the better," she remarked.

"I'm with ya," Abner agreed.

In the immediate area, there were still some people remaining, who looked familiar. From the cloak, she recognized one of them to be Karus. Karus appeared to be arguing with somebody, and was flanked by two unknown men clad in chainmail. Uriko circled around to get a better look. It turned out to be Lance, the surly town guard, and Frelick, his talkative friend. Both of them looked deeply troubled by the spectacle.

"So, this is justice to you?" Karus blurted out angrily. Uriko noticed that he had tears at the corner of his eyes, which he discreetly wiped away. He grabbed Lance by the pauldron with his free hand. "He was pleading for mercy!"

"I don't make the rules," Lance said monotonously.

"But you willingly enforce them!" Karus retorted. Uriko was not used to seeing Karus so flustered, but she understood his pain. The spectacle had also filled her heart with bitterness and distrust.

"If we could, we would change things," Frelick interjected. "But we're nobodies. No one would listen to us, even if we did speak out." He lay a hand on Karus' shoulder, trying to calm him.

Karus clenched his jaw and shoved Lance away, and started sulking on his own.

"Uriko!" Frelick finally greeted her. He had a weak half-smile on his face, as if forcing himself to remain cheerful. "Are you feeling better?"

"I've been better," she dismissed him, and beckoned to Karus. "Are you joining us to find Grelos?"

"Yes," Karus solemnly replied without looking at her.

"And Chrovan?" She asked for additional details.

"I'm right here," Chrovan emerged from the corner of her eye and greeted them. He immediately detected the tension in the group. "Is everybody okay?"

"We're swell," Abner replied, his voice dripping with obvious sarcasm. "We just watched a pair of despotic psychopaths chop a man's head off."

Chrovan was unamused. "It's a war. These things happen."

"I don't want to hear you justifying what just happened," Uriko shot back. "Let's just find Grelos like we planned." She was not in the mood for another argument with him, despite being filled with anger and itching for a fight.

"Were you able to get anyone to assist us with the expedition?" Karus asked Chrovan.

"No," Chrovan grumbled grumpily, as if hiding something. "The locals are not particularly cooperative. To hell with them."

"We're coming with you!" Frelick shouted.

Karus introduced the group to the pair again. "You all remember these two? They're off-duty today, and have offered to help us."

"You can count on my brother and me!" Frelick boasted.

Chrovan gave both of them a quick stare-down and inspected their physiques. "You'll do. Just don't slow us down."

The party, consisting of Uriko, Abner, Karus, Chrovan, Lance, and Frelick bravely struck out from the safe confines of Crescent's Peak and back into the dangerous mist of the Lamenting Woods. As they travelled, they barely conversed, making sure they would not be distracted long enough to be ambushed. After searching for hours, they were still unable to find any trace of Grelos. Eventually, they returned to the last recalled location, where they had been separated from their companion after the wolves attacked. The crew dispersed to cover more territory, but kept themselves within earshot, and regularly maintained communication with one another. Chrovan strode forth on his own in one direction, whereas the newly assembled trio of Karus, Frelick, and Lance traveled in the opposite direction. Abner kept to higher ground and out of sight, as expected by now. Despite being on here one, Uriko felt in her element in the wilderness and dropped low, inspecting the earth. The ground itself held clues as to what had occurred beforehand, and she had been trained to read them as clearly as any book.

Eventually Uriko came across the corpse of a wolf, and began inspecting it. Judging by the state of the body, which was covered with large gashes and peppered with holes, this creature had died recently, and by injuries inflicted by claws and teeth. _Could this have been Grelos' work?_ She pondered as she harvested a sample of the creature's fur.

After several minutes of detailed investigation, the group reconvened at the agreed upon rendezvous point. Uriko was the first to arrive, followed immediately by Chrovan.

"I found a dead wolf. Looks like there was one hell of a struggle." Uriko reported.

"Yes, I found a few myself," Chrovan spoke up.

"Any sign of Grelos?" Uriko asked.

"Nothing, except for this," Abner interjected and dropped down to the ground beside them, holding a piece of textured leather stained with some dried blood.

Chrovan inspected it, and solemnly nodded. "That's definitely his armor." The leather armor piece had been entirely shredded, and was weakly kept together by some barely intact sinews. "Dammit, all." He seemed genuinely vexed. "Did you find his body?"

"No body," Abner replied. "A lot of footsteps in and out of the area, though. They're faint; someone's trying to cover their steps."

"Do you think he's still alive?" Uriko asked Chrovan, who was still staring intently at the destroyed piece of equipment.

"These results are inconclusive. He could be captured, or just in hiding," Chrovan hypothesized.

"We can't just call out to him, it'll be a beacon for everything else that wants us dead to come running," Uriko warned the group. She started feeling uneasy, and felt like something was watching them.

"Where are the others? They're late," Chrovan remarked, annoyed.

"There's dead wolves all around this place," Frelick said as he emerged from the fog with Lance and Karus following closely behind them. "Someone, or something, has torn them to pieces. But no sign of your friend."

"We've also found something else even stranger," Karus added. "Follow me," he gestured to the party with his staff. He led them through some of the foliage and into a clearing, which had a single stump a the center.

At the center of the ringed platform, there was half of a severed hand lying in a pool of red. It had been lopped off at the intersection between the middle and ring finger with a clean single hit, given the neat cutting of the muscle and clean break of the bones. All that remained were the ring and pinky finger, plus some section of the palm.

"What in the hell is this?" Chrovan asked, confused.

"Beats the hell out of us," Frelick replied.

Uriko inspected the sight closer. There was a large gash in the wood several inches across seated directly underneath the severed fingers, indicating it was performed with an handaxe. The instrument itself was nowhere to be found. There was a blood spray all across the surrounding ground, which had stained the earth dark red. The hand, which was apparently someone's left, appeared to be human, and was clawing deep into the stump; the nails had penetrated into the material. Around the base of the ring finger there was a golden band with two small pearls. She relayed this information to her comrades, narrating as she investigated.

"I call dibs on the ring," Abner called out.

The entire group turned to him in silence and sneered.

"What? Did one of you want it?"

Karus ignored his comment and continued. "Who do you think these belong to?" Karus questioned.

Chrovan stroked his chin as he pondered. He raised his eyebrows when he mentally figured it out. "Didn't they say there was another missing person? Someone named Travis of something?"

"Yes, I remember that name too." Uriko recalled one of the villagers has mentioned about his unexpected absence. "Where's the rest of him?"

"Probably eaten," Chrovan declared grimly. "If not, most likely he's bled out somewhere else." He appeared to arrived at some sort of epiphany. "If we've found another missing person, perhaps we could get a reward for it this time?"

"Makes sense," Abner chimed in. "We didn't get anything for the last person we rescued."

Chrovan took out a small piece of burlap and covered his hand with it. He then grasped the dismembered remains and inverted the bag over it, preventing him from touching it with his bare skin. He concluded by tying it up with a length of twine, and pocketed it.

Karus tapped Uriko on the shoulder, grabbing her attention. "Do you smell that?" He whispered to her.

 _Yes,_ Uriko took a moment to sample the air, and she could sense a musky scent wafting around her. Her eyes picked up the distance pitter-patter of encroaching footsteps. The frequency of ground contact implied that something was bolting towards them on all fours.

"Something's coming!" Uriko warned the group.

Before they could react in time, a massive direwolf has emerged from the brush, and glared at them with an open mouth and bared teeth. The fierce mongrel growled at them and dug its paws into the earth, as if preparing to pounce. The beast was five feet tall at the shoulder and over 12 feet long, and covered with jet-black fur with dark blue patches. It was a magnificent and large beast, and absolutely terrifying.

"Back, you devil!" Frelick shrieked as he impulsively charged the creature with his spear poised towards it.

"Frelick, no!" Lance blurted out to protest, but was too late.

Frelick cleared the distance and stabbed forward. To everyone's shock, the spear glanced off the creature's immensely thick hide and Frelick's forward momentum caused him to topple further forward.

The dire wolf tackled into him, which sent him careening backwards, consequently disarming him. As Frelick lay helpless on his back, the beast lunged forward, jaw widened and prepared to feast on his flesh.

Karus immediately intervened and struck the ground once again with his staff.

Kaiba's white wolf form materialized from the mist to the wolf's flank and charged straight into her. It phased through the wolf's breast and emerged out the other end in one fluid motion.

The wolf howled in pain and was pushed mid-flight onto some dirt, missing Frelick entirely as he scrambled to his feet and fled from the beast.

 _You idiot! Don't attack it some recklessly!_ Uriko wanted to scold him, but the snarling creature before them held her attention.

By now, the rest of the crew had equipped themselves and were facing her down with weapons readied.

The wolf quickly arose from the ground, barely damaged, but infuriated. She lifted a massive black paw and passed it through Kaiba's frame once, dispersing the mist and his physical form entirely in one fell swoop.

Karus clenched the haft of his staff and dropped to his knees, as if the damage inflicted upon Kaiba directly translated to him. He grunted in pain as he clutched his chest tightly with a free hand.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?" Uriko rushed to his side, supporting him and preventing him from keeling over entirely.

Frelick reunited with Lance, who had his shield and sword raised. "Get behind me," he commanded his brother. Chrovan rushed to his side, and the two locked their shields together, forming a barrier.

The wolf fiercely snapped it dripping jowls as it advanced towards the pair.

Chrovan and Lance both had their weapons raised above their heads, threatening the space in front of their shield wall.

The creature, although large and bulky, cleared the distance in a tremendous burst of speed, ramming herself into the armored duo. They attempted to swing their weapons, but did not anticipate how fast she was, and reacted too slowly to intercept her. She crashed into them like a malevolent flood, washing them away.

Chrovan and Lance were knocked back several feet, landing in a contorted mess on top of Frelick. The three clumsily attempted to stand, but the damage inflicted by the tackle, coupled with their heavy armor, make their movements sluggish and uncoordinated.

Abner rushed behind the beast and onto its back as it was distracted by the others. He plunged a dagger into its back and twisted the blade sharply. A spray of blood coated his clothing, and the creature howled in pain. It began thrashing wilding in an attempt to launch him off, but he held onto the creature's fur as his legs flopped about.

 _Crazy,_ Uriko thought as she watched Abner clinging perilously onto the creature's back. But it appeared to be working, as blood started dripping down its back, where there was still a dagger shoved deep into the muscle. She prepared to cast her own offensive spell, if she could find another opening.

Abner found an opening during a brief pause in the dire wolf's thrashing and retrieved his blade. He then prepared to sink it into her back once more.

The dire wolf reacted faster and rolled onto her back, and Abner disappeared into a black carpet of fur. She rolled around the dirt on her back for several seconds, and finally returned to her feet.

Abner was lying on his back, his face contorted in pain. He feebly turned to one side and reached for his knife, which was slightly out of reach. His injuries, caused by the weight of the massive beast crushing him, making his motions awkward and pained.

The beast was almost upon him now, and was smacking her lips as if savoring the meal to come.

 _No!_ Without thinking, Uriko immediately bolted over to Abner's side and stood in front of him, blocking off the wolf's advance.

"Get away!" Abner coughed out painfully as he continued to weakly reached for his weapon. "Leave me!"

"Shut up, Abner. I know what I'm doing," she harshly shushed him. She had both hands raised and open, as if presenting herself to the wolf. She made direct eye contact with the terrifying monster and channeled her extensive knowledge of fauna along with her druidic magic in an attempt to reason with the wild animal. "Easy now," Uriko said soothingly, trying to make it understand her intent. She swayed back and forth and bared her teeth, using wolf mannerisms she had learned . Her heart was beating faster than ever before, to the point where she could hear it in her ears. _Don't be afraid, don't be afraid, don't be afraid, don't be afraid,_ she frantically repeated to herself.

To Uriko's surprise, the creature also locked eyes with her and never broke their stare. The female dire wolf swayed in sync with Uriko's motions, and occasionally licked the sides of her lips with a large, dark red tongue.

"We will leave your territory in peace," Uriko continued to reason, using her animal empathy to calm the creature's rampage. She feared the worst; if the creature pleased, it could just as easily slain them all, and be rid of them all the same.

The wolf folded its lips back over its teeth, wiping away the deeply threatening expression.

 _It's working,_ Uriko through, clinging to hope. "We mean you no harm."

 _Then why are you so full of hate?_ A female voice could be heard, causing a chill to run up Uriko's spine. Uriko felt another presence, something ominous and sinister, staring right back at her beyond the dire wolf's yellow eyes. Her fur stood up on end as the same mysterious voice echoed within the chambers of her mind. _Hate bleeds from you. It's...delightfull._ The woman appeared to be in ecstasy as she spoke.

 _Who are you?_ Uriko asked the darkness.

 _You'll find out in due time. I've thought of a better use for you, Uriko._ The voice faded away into darkness, and the wolf jumped back, widening the gap between them.

The party had reassembled yet again, and were all at Uriko's side. Lance and Frelick had shields and weapons aimed and ready to strike, as did Chrovan. Karus was beside Abner and lifting him to his feet, supporting some of his weight on his shoulder.

The dire wolf now appeared to be in pain, and ground her face against the dirt in response. She thrashed about fiercely and abruptly froze in a jerky motion. She was now facing northeast and staring intently, as if she sensed something far off in the distance beyond what any of them could perceive. Without prompt, the wolf bolted out like shadow, disappearing entirely into the woods. Its loud trampling footsteps gradually faded away into silence.

"It just left? What in the hell is going on here?" Karus yelled.

"I haven't the slightest clue," Abner strained out as he limped against Karus.

"Don't know, don't care." Chrovan reminded them of the urgency of the situation. "Let's get out of here before she changes her mind and doubles back!"

 _I doubt it,_ Uriko want to say, but felt reluctant to divulge what she has witnessed. _Was it just my imagination?_ She felt a slight doubt in her heart, but it felt like someone could see her through the wolf's eyes, and this entity had selected her for something sinister.

"Uriko!" Karus called out to her, snapping her out of her daze. "We mustn't stay here. Let's go!" He rushed her.

Uriko nodded and started marching quickly back towards the town to safety.

Abner faced Uriko and smiled. "Thank you," he started, "for saving my life."

Uriko blushed when she realized what she had done, and how much danger she had willingly put herself in. "What was I going to do? Let you get eaten?" She responded.

Abner laughed. "I appreciate it."

Uriko couldn't help but remark, "Good job riding a dire wolf." She replayed the memory in her head. "It looked really cool. That is, until it rolled over you." She snarked with a playful laugh.

"Yeah, that hurt like hell," Abner grunted, rubbing his bruised and battered body. "I'm never doing that again; that's a promise."

The group made their way quickly through the forest. This time, their trek was expeditious and without further incident, thanks to Frelick and Lance's familiarity with the surrounding environment. The party emerged from the woods safely and returned to Crescent's Peak, and crossed the main gate back into the village. Uriko took great care not to look up at the heads mounted atop the city gate this time, to prevent herself from seeing the grisly sight again. She took several calming deep breaths as she focused on walking past. They finally arrived at the Silver Stag Inn once more, paid for their rooms, and shared a meal together. Lance and his brother eventually retired to their homes, and with friendly remarks they parted ways.

Chrovan ate his food quickly and departed with his macabre parcel without disclosing anything. About an hour later, long after the group had finished eating, Chrovan returned, looking excited and bearing news.

"Where did you go in such a hurry?" Karus asked him.

"I've acquired an audience with the high priest of Bahamut," he disclosed proudly.

"Yes? And that matters how?" Uriko did not understand his intent.

"Listen, we're not going to get anywhere searching alone," Chrovan explained. "If we can convince their leader to spare us a few knights, it'll make our next trek considerably easier."

Uriko was hesitant to accept more people into the group, especially if they were black knights. The disturbing display on the gates, along with the barbaric execution she had witnessed the morning before, filled her with a deep distrust for the lot of them.

"Today we were way in over our heads," Chrovan continued. "We need a larger fighting force if we're going to survive another encounter like the last one."

"We were doing great!" Abner chimed in after sipping on a frothy mug of age. "For a while," he muttered under his breath.

Chrovan ignored his joke and addressed the rest of the party. "They'll be expecting us soon. We should get going."

Uriko and Karus exchanged a silent apprehensive look. Karus, despite befriending two of the city's residents, clearly had a distaste for their ways. It had become abundantly clear that Lance and Frelick were the exception rather than the rule, and she was not particularly keen on meeting the man responsible for the city's religious fanaticism.

"We only have some much time," Chrovan added. "Every moment Grelos is still lost in there, the more likely we'll never find him, or only find a corpse."

Uriko frowned, annoyed at the situation she had found herself in. "Fine," she huffed, feeling indignant. _I don't like it._

Karus sighed and rolled his eyes, not even attempting to hide his dismay. "Lead the way, Chrovan."

The four of them left the inn, moved down the dirt road and past the countless villages touting their wares, and arrived at the unmistakable landmark of the temple of Bahamut. It was a large and garish places, and in the daylight the smooth rock and immaculate carvings on the exterior shimmered with a metallic glow. At the very top of the highest tower, there was insignia of the yellow new moon, seated above the stature of a large dragon with wings outstretched.

"Gaudy place," Abner remarked. "Must've cost a fortune to build. What does a god need with a nice building? I figured if you were a god, you wouldn't care about something so basic."

"Shut up, Abner," Chrovan silenced him. "It was difficult enough to convince them to let us in. Don't offend anybody."

"I find that nigh on impossible," Abner quipped back. "Maybe I should sit this one out," he said as he about-faced and started walking in a different direction.

"Fine, do whatever you like." Chrovan waved him off without even looking at him, and started walking up the marble steps into the temple. They were halted by a pair of black guards with large imposing silvered poleaxes, but after the usual ramble of Chrovan's silver tongue they waved the entire party, save for Abner who had again run off, into the temple.

The interior was somehow even more lavish than the outside. The floor on which they walked on was adorned with large alternating gold-lined black and grey tiles, which spanned all across the floor. There were large silver stands with lit candles arranged in neat intervals as they walked deeper into the building and towards their destination. As they walked down the monolithic pathway, there were several other corridors that lead into other unknown parts of the building, and each was also guarded by a New Moon Knight. The walls were also covered with impressive artworks depicting embellished historic events, epic and expansive battles, and dragons.

"Bahamut is the platinum dragon, he was rumored to have been created when -" their escort has started mouthing off about the histories and traditions surrounding their religion, and Uriko was not listening. She instead looked around and observed each and every New Moon Knight she encountered along the way. They all seemed to blend together, as if the identical suit of black armor stripped them all of identity or individuality. Each and every one of them bore the same two-handed silvered greatblade, which was fastened to their backs. _Which one has a broken sword?_ She milled over the memory and search for a telltale sign, but alas, was unable to find any additional clues.

At the end of the hallway, the room widened out into a large cathedral. There were arranged rows of wooden benches stacked all across the floor space, and divided down the middle by a red velvet carpet. The carpet let to a highly decorated shrine with a similar dragon statue behind it. There were thick marble columns supporting the roof, which shot up at least three stories. The room was awash in pale white light as a result of the sunlight reflecting off the marble. there was a single man adorned in shimmering plate armor approaching them. He wore a gold embroidered white robe that draped behind him as we walked. His face was covered with a large white beard and atop his head he had flowing white hair. He had bags under his eyes, and appeared to be rather elderly, despite walking with a healthy stride. Behind him there was a squad of the same black plate clad soldiers. The one directly behind him, despite wearing an almost identical suit of armor, sported a black cape with a red border.

"So, you are Chrovan of House Dakal?" The man spoke in a breathy and withered voice.

"The last one, your holiness," Chrovan said politely and with a formal bow. "These are my comrades, Karus and Uriko."

Uriko and Karus awkwardly imitated Chrovan's bow and silently greeted the elderly man.

"Welcome to the temple of Bahamut. My name is Pardue," he introduced himself kindly with his arms outstretched. "By the will of the Platinum Dragon, all evil shall be purged from this world, and we shall be lead into a paradise!" He looked back down and faced Chrovan. "Now, what is this urgent business you have with me?"

"We are peaceful travellers who became separated from our comrade in the woods. We seek your help in finding him," Chrovan pleaded. "We have protected and escorted some of your own, and we were hoping this service was enough to merit assistance from the temple. The first one, the woman named Cynthia, was returned to the city unharmed. The other, her husband Travis," he paused,retrieved the parcel, and unwrapped the blood-soaked burlap, revealing the half-hand, "was not so fortunate."

Pardue's kind and sunken-in eyes widened, and he appeared agitated. "Drop that, this instant," he commanded. "For your own good, son." He walked towards Chrovan with his right hand reaching across his waist for his sword.

"Your holiness?" Chrovan was confused as the strange request, which was presented without any explanation.

"Drop it!" Pardue shouted, his calm demeanor melting away into an aggressive frown.

Chrovan did was he was told, and dropped the severed partial appendage onto the ground. It landed on the cold hard marble with a dull wet thud and leaked some remnant blood and pus.

Pardue walked up to it and drew an ornate curved sword from the scabbard at his hip. The metal on the blade shone brilliantly, moreso on the silvered side, as the metal rung. The handle was carved from ivory and had a golden crossguard and pommel, the latter ending with a single ruby embedded at the end. He knelt down before the motionless hand, raised his sword aloft, and shouted forcefully, "Begone, you evil!" With that, Pardue brought his scimitar downwards onto the hand, aimed at the ring.

The blade contacted the ring, and shattered instantly. The rest of the hand was untouched, a testament to this stranger's superb control and master swordsmanship. For a brief moment, the shattered remnants of the golden ring floated into the air, as if carried by an unseen force, and evaporated into black smoke. The smog formed the faintest visage of a face with hollow eyes and wide gaping mouth before fading away entirely.

The crew remained silent, dumbfounded by what they had just witnessed.

Pardue sheathed his curved blade and rose to his feet. "I apologize for my frankness," he began. "But that item was cursed. It would've only have been a matter of time before it attempted to inflict you as well." His voice had become slow and soft again.

"Thank you for intervening, your holiness," Chrovan said enthusiastically. "That was incredible!"

"It was not I who is incredible," the man said humbly. "It is by the divine mandate of the Platinum Dragon himself that I am capable of purging such evils!" He took a moment to catch his breath.

"Why would the ring be cursed?" Karus interjected. "Doesn't this belong to one of your own?"

"Yes, the other missing person, Cynthia's husband Travis," Pardue replied with an assuring nod. "It appears that there is a foul plot afoot from without Crescent's Peak." He stroked his beard, appearing troubled. "Who would be capable of such a heinous act of magic?"

"I think I know who made it," Uriko mentioned aloud, recalling her encounter with one of the townsfolk from the earlier morning. "This craftsmanship looks familiar. Perhaps the village artificer may know?"

"This is most disturbing." Pardue begin to pace about, thinking to himself. "I'm afraid that I must ask of more of you." He directly addressed Chrovan. "I believe we can arrive at a deal thusly: if you can apprehend the culprit behind this act of foul play, the church will help you on your expedition."

"If we do one more task for you, you will help us in return?"

"You have my word." Pardue saluted. "If you do this for us, I will personally select, from my own knights, a group to assist you with your investigation."

Chrovan turned back to the others, and they both give him a shrug.

"We agree to your terms," Chrovan said with a bow.

What choice do we have? Uriko thought, annoyed but resigning to the holy man's decision. _Just hang in there, Grelos, wherever you are. We're coming for ya._

Before they could leave, Karus stepped forward and spoke up. "Your holiness, I have some concerns that I must discuss with you." He had appeared to be distressed throughout the day, and it was apparent that he could not hold back his emotions any more. "I have only been here for less than two days," he started, "but in that short time I have beheld some atrocities committed by your own soldiers. I cannot believe that a man as devoted to justice as yourself would condone such horrendous acts."

"You will show some respect when talking to his holiness," the black knight with the red cape commanded threateningly, lurching forward.

Pardue raised a single hand, halting his advance. "Please do not address our guests so rudely," he reprimanded him. "If he as a legitimate question, it is our duty to answer him." He turned to Karus with his usual welcoming grin. "My dear boy," Pardue deluged, "if you could see the savagery that the Feral Hearts have inflicted on our own, you would realize that what we've done in return is mercy." His cape fluttered as he moved about and gestured with his hands. "When we catch one of theirs, they are put swiftly to death, after a fair trial. When one of our own are captured by the Feral Hearts, they die slowly, and always in agony. Zanzibar is a cruel and sadistic woman, and she delights herself in inflicting suffering."

Karus seemed angry, but did not respond any further, and stepped back down.

"Is that all?" Pardue inquired.

"No," Uriko decided to speak up finally. She felt like she would not have another chance for a long time for answers. She stepped towards the paladin and presented herself. "I come from a land south of here. And in my homeland, I've seen it before; the silvered greatsword of the New Moon Knights."

"You have? That's surprising," Pardue remarked, leaning in.

"A long time ago, when my people were all butchered like cattle. And I found a broken blade among the remnants of my home." Disclosing the details of her past caused the pain to resurge in her heart, but she did not allow herself to cry. "Did it belong to you?" She asked him, staring straight into his shimmering blue eyes.

"I cannot say," Pardue answered, looking distressed by what she had just told him.

"What do you mean, you cannot say?" Uriko blurted out, becoming flustered.

"I am truly sorry for your loss. But I assure you, it was not by my will, or the wills of my men." He explained. "We are commanded by the will of Bahumut. The will of justice!"

"What are you not telling me?" Uriko tried to walk closer, but Karus grabbed her shoulder, preventing her from acting rashly. He had a look of sadness on his face as their eyes met.

Pardue sighed deeply, and somberly regaled more details. "The sad truth is, we've had knights going rogue every now and then. But you cannot condemn all members of a society for a few defective ones."

"That may be true," Uriko countered. "But if that man is still alive, I will find him, and I will kill him myself." She promised, eyes red with newfound fury.

"If that is true justice, then may it come to pass," Pardue prayed, and departed.


	9. Mistaken Identity

Abner, bored of waiting, kicked over a small pebble that was lying on the ground in front of him as he walked. He pulled out a decorative chalice that he had recently pilfered, to appraise its worth. It was an incredibly tacky thing; it was a golden drinking cup with a ring of encrusted rubies, sapphires, and emeralds all along the edge. _What is even the point of this?_ Abner scoffed. _Is it a display piece? Do you actually drink something from it? Wouldn't liquids tarnish the metal?_ He continued to mill over the item. _The weird things rich people do with their money_. He had also acquired a hand crossbow, which was now fastened to his right hip for ease of drawing. This device, on the other hand, was an aesthetic marvel; the body was carved from a sturdy hardwood and lacquered black, the barrel and limbs were constructed from highly flexible blackened steel, and the string was composed of spell-spun spider silk. All along the shaft and handle there were engraved embellishments, which depicted battle between heroes and beasts. Functionally, it was remarkably lightweight, and somehow packed a vicious punch that rivaled its two-handed brethren. Abner figured he could put it to better use than allowing it to gather dust underneath a glass display case. But he also made sure to conceal the item with his cape as he walked, to prevent arousing suspicion.

The townsfolk made no attempts to hide their mistrust of strangers. As Abner paced around the streets, filching the occasional pocket, he was constantly met with accusatory eyes. But he knew that it was not thievery they were wary of; it was the nibbling doubt that their own had become one of _them._ Their fear had turned the people against one another, and nobody in the city felt safe anymore.

After some time, Abner returned to the entrance of the temple of Bahamut, avoiding contact with the guards and black knights stationed along the perimeter. He found a large grouping of bootprints, as if an entire garrison had been deployed down the main road. Abner contemplated for a moment, and decided to follow along. However, he stayed off the main road, and cut through the back alleys, in order to conceal his presence.

Abner broke into a sprint the moment he crossed into the shadows of the nearest alley. As he swiftly zipped left and right through the passageways he had mentally mapped the night before, a cart of pickled foodstuffs was wheeled into his trajectory, several feet in front him. Without breaking stride, he vaulted over the obstacle with one hand.

After some time passed, he spotted a beggar slumped against the right wall, holding out a wooden cup. Abner shifted his weight to one side and performed a wall run, avoid collision with the man's outstretched hand. As he passed by, the rogue dropped a single small ruby that he had taken from the temple, and the red gem sailed directly into the man's cup.

Eventually, the alleyway ended at an adobe wall that reached two stories into the sky. Abner used his forward momentum to propel himself up onto a nearby ascending stack of wooden crates. At the top of the impromptu stairwell, the half-elf and flew onto a thatched roof.

After maintaining his balance all across the rooftop, he leapt from the first building, tumbled past a nearby banister, swiftly rolled back to his feet. He silently slipped past some unwitting residents, he jumped once more off the railing and through an open window, landing inside a deserted room that smelled of dirt and smoke. From the lower floor he could hear the commotion of a large family, which concealed his already nearly noiseless footsteps. He exited through the other open window on the opposite side of the room, and then scaled up the building to the highest floor, using whatever crude handholds he could find.

As he lightly jogged atop of the red tiled roof, he scanned his immediate vicinity, to regain his bearings . He found the simplest route, but yearned for a greater challenge. Abner mischievously grinned when his eyes fell upon the adjacent bell tower. _Perfect._ He took some careful steps backwards and sprinted forward, bounding over the massive gap. He barely made it, and grunted in pain as he slammed chest-first onto the structure. The large bronze bell was hanging motionless just slightly out of reach as he struggled to maintain his grip. The smooth marble of the building's exterior made it impossible to secure a handhold, and no footholds were present to support him. Running out of options, and gradually losing his grip, Abner forced his body forward, and started swinging himself as he gripped onto the ledge with his fingers. The momentum swung him back out, and he forced his hips and legs forward once more, launching himself towards the rope that hung from the bell. His sore hands secured the knotted rope, and the bell sounded off loudly directly overhead, filling his ears with a thunderous ring. Abner breathed a deep sigh of relief and slid down the rope, ending at ground level once more. _Too close,_ he thought sheepishly. _What's important is that no one saw me_.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a nearby explosion. Abner could feel the ground trembling and smelt burnt wood immediately after the boom passed. He followed the scent trail until he arrived at the scene.

This section of the town had become shrouded in a haze of black smoke and white debris, and Abner could hear the sounds of people groaning within the cloud. He waved his hand, parting the dust as he walked, and eventually arrived at the remnants of a destroyed shop. The roof had collapsed entirely inward, effectively crushing everything beneath it. To the right of the demolished storefront, he found his party accompanied by members of the city watch. They were all caked in pieces of wreckage, and hacking loudly.

"Oh, I see how it is," Abner started mockingly. "Abner needs to stay out of trouble, but it's perfectly fine when you guys destroy a place." He chastised them sarcastically with his hands at his hips.

Karus arose to his feet, brushing dust out of his hair. "This week just keeps getting better and better," he groaned.

"What was that?" Uriko huffed as she leapt up to her feet.

"A trap, obviously," Chrovan murmured as he whipped his head back and forth, shaking out chips of wood.

"Are the others okay? What if they're they trapped underground?" Some of the city guards asked worriedly.

"We can try to dig them out later," Chrovan reasoned. "Right now we need to continue our search, and find the person who did this." He helped up one of the disheveled watchmen.

"That's your assignment," the guard dismissed him. "We're staying!" He turned to one of his subordinates, and gave him a stern order. "Report this to Pardue, and send reinforcements!" His lackey nodded and marched back towards the temple without allowing Chrovan to say another word in protest. The remainder of the squad begun moving aside large chunks of shattered wood and rock.

Chrovan had no authority over these men, despite his high stature and force of personality. In his frustration, he kicked aside a nearby wooden crate, shattering it into splinters. "Useless," he muttered.

Abner stifled a smirk. "Who are we looking for?" He asked, still awaiting details about the current situation and objective.

"We're looking for Trisha, the trinket shopkeeper," Uriko informed him. "Pardue offered to lend out some soldiers to help find Grelos. But first, we have to do some work for him."

"More work?" Abner scoffed, feeling taken advantage of. "How much more can we help these cheapskates?" He grumbled. "Fine, let me get a better look." He bolted towards a nearby drainage pipe and scaled it, bringing him to the rooftop of another building. He peered across the vast city with his sharpened eyes and attempted to find anything suspicious. Further south, he noticed a pair of people travelling together with hoods over their heads, attempting to keep a low profile. "I think I found them," he loudly announced to the party.

Abner, with a running start, cleared the distance from the roof onto a lower house, and finally jumped off onto an ox-drawn cart in motion. He tumbled to ground level and began leading the crew to the fleeing duo's last seen location.

"They're trying to escape the city!" Abner speculated. "We can cut them off at the southern gate!" You three, keeping going this way and make the second left!" He instructed articulately. He then dashed in the opposite direction. His party heeded his orders and followed suit.

Less than a minute passed, and Abner peered down an alley to behold the two hooded figures he had singled out. They both gasped in shock at the sight of him, and one appeared to be trembling. He could tell that they were both female, and one was visibly pregnant. "We don't mean you any harm; we just have a few questions," he stated in the most non-threatening way he could muster.

Chrovan, Uriko, and Karus slid past the opposite side of the alley, effectively forming a pincer around the fleeing pair.

Chrovan had his mace drawn and loudly boomed, "Halt! You're under arrest!" His voice echoed across the cobblestone and brick walls.

The two women, visibly startled, searched for an alternative route, and ran into one of the nearby buildings through an unlocked door.

Abner groaned in frustration at his comrade's bombastic approach. _Subtle_. The group converged towards the open door, only slowing their advance when they heard the pained cry of a woman, followed by an otherworldly low growl.

They all peered cautiously into the darkness, and were immediately greeted by a pair of floating yellow eyes surrounded by wispy threads of white energy. The fearsome entity advanced on the party, causing them to recoil and slowly back away.

Abner quickly drew both of his knives and held them in front of himself in a defensive stance. _Well this is something new._

"Get back! It's a spirit!" Karus warned them as they stepped backwards. "Come forth, Kaiba. We need your assistance." He planted one end of his staff confidently, summoning his white wolf to shield them.

The formless spectre spilled out into the alley as a layer of mist blanketed the ground. Soon, it began to take shape. First, four powerful legs sprouted out from underneath. Next, a large bushy tail grew out from behind. And finally, a large pointed snout and perked-up ears grew around the levitating globes. The mist had coalesced into the shape of a massive dire wolf.

"A dire wolf?!" Kaiba psychically projected to all of them as he lowered his stance and snapped his teeth threateningly. "What would compel such a powerful spirit to serve?"

Realizing that close quarters would be unfavorable, Abner sheathed his daggers and instead drew and loaded his crossbow. _Not again_. He dreaded having to fight another one.

The four of them stood cramped in the narrow corridor as they faced the beast. It took one lurching step forward, its form wafting in and out of shape with each motion. It was oddly mesmerizing and simultaneously horrifying. As they backed away from the creature, they watched as the hooded duo emerged from the door and fled.

"Dammit," Chrovan seethed through clenched teeth. "Karus, how do we get past?"

"We have to take it down," Karus answered. "But this creature is very powerful." He seemed unsure of their chances.

"Then what are we waiting for? They're going to get away!" Chrovan shifted forward, simultaneously swinging downward at the creature's head.

Unexpectedly, his mace contacted with the creature's corporeal form, and it was jerked backwards in pain. One of the eyes were damaged and had become half-formed, like a smear on a watercolor painting. This creature, although just as large and imposing, was not nearly as aggressive as the creature they had encountered previously.

"We can will this!" Abner proclaimed confidently. He took aim squeezed the trigger on his crossbow. The bolt buried itself into the spirit wolf's corporeal form. The beast howled in pain, but it did not retaliate. It continued to bark and snarl at them furiously.

"What is it doing?" Uriko pondered. "Why isn't it fighting us back?" She formed her vine whip and lashed at the the creature. The tip sliced cleanly through its front-facing left paw, disconnecting it from the rest of the mass. Unbalanced, the spirit toppled to one side, unable to catch itself. Uriko continued the momentum of her swing and slashed at the beast once more, this time severing one of his large pointed ears.

"Don't let your guard down!" Chrovan warned them. "It could be a trick! Keep the pressure up!" As the beast's massive head bucked forward, Chrovan rebuked it with an upward swing, which threw the beast backwards and helplessly onto its back.

The dire wolf thrashed pathetically on its back, unable to right itself.

Chrovan reared the mace back and shifted all his weight into his swing, prepared to deal the creature a coup de grâce.

"Stop!" Karus commanded forcefully. His abrupt outburst caused his party members to momentarily freeze.

"What, are you crazy?" Abner refused his request and prepared to let fly another crossbow bolt, this time aimed at the wolf's exposed underbelly.

Karus shoved past him and Chrovan, interrupting their attacks. Abner unintentionally squeezed the trigger, and shattered a nearby window. Karus finally stepped in front of Chrovan and held his hands out in protest, with his back turned to the beast. "Stop!" He repeated himself.

"Have you lost your damn mind?" Chrovan started to move again. "Get out of the way, before you get us all killed!"

During the brief reprieve, the creature successfully rolled back onto his three remaining legs and resumed staring them down.

 _Great going, you idiot!_ Abner thought, dumbfounded by Karus' newfound insanity. _You let it get back up!_ He frantically reloaded his crossbow.

Karus calmly turned back towards the dire wolf. It moved close enough to disturb his long, matted hair with each labored puff. _What is Karus gonna do?_ He thought anxiously.

"I know you mean us no harm!" Karus directly addressed the monster, as if it could understand him. "So, return to the spirit world from whence you came!" Karus confidently strode forward and stabbed his staff into the center of the creature's form. "Begone!" His voice boomed as a gust of powerful wind exploded from tip of his staff, dispersing the creature entirely. The remnant wisps of mist eventually dissipated into nothingness in the air.

"What did you just do?" Chrovan inquired. His confusion mirrored the rest of the party.

"I dispelled it, instead of destroying it," Karus explained.

"Why?" Abner did not understand, as destroying it would have yielded identical results.

"Destroying a guardian spirit is a temporary solution, but it inflicts damage upon the summoner," Karus explained further. "And they mean us no harm, so I cannot condone harming them. I have some questions for them myself," he finished.

"Fine, fine, that'll do," Chrovan quickly rushed him, and ran down the cleared alleyway after where they pair had fled. He waved to the others assuredly. "They didn't get far! We can still catch up to them!" He continued his pursuit, and the rest of the party followed his lead.

At the edge of town, the party caught up to their escaping quarries. Abner could see that one of the figures had had fallen over. She was clutching her belly with one hand, and he could audibly hear her groaning in pain. Her accomplice was futilely attempting to lift her back onto her feet.

The upright woman, her face still partially concealed by her hood, stood in front of her incapacitated ally and brandished a dagger at the approaching party. "Get back!" She attempted to be intimidating, but her involuntary trembling defanged her entirely. Underneath her brown cloak, she was wearing a dress of various bright colors. Her hair, bushy and wild, was hastily stuffed into her hood, and was bursting out the sides like tangled, red vines. Her comrade was still keeled over, shrouded in a similarly discolored cloak, and facing away from the group, breathing deeply.

"Drop your weapon. Come with us, and we'll-" Chrovan started to speak, but was swiftly interrupted.

"How did you do that?" Karus jumped in front of him and addressed the knife-wielding woman. "How did you summon a dire spirit?" His voice was brimming with curiosity and a yearning for answers. "Only greatest of shaman elders are capable of such a feat."

Abner watched intently with his index finger hovering over his crossbow's trigger.

"What are you talking about?" She replied between pants as she continued to shield her accomplice. "We didn't have anything to do with that creature."

"Then who-?" Karus turned to the other woman. It was apparent through her rudimentary disguise that it was indeed, Cynthia. "Did you do that?" Karus asked hesitantly.

Cynthia was too pained to answer his question. "It hurts!" She trembled as she grasped her own pregnant belly with both hands. "The baby is moving so much!"

 _Please don't be giving birth,_ Abner dreaded. "Just for the record, I am not trained, not am I mentally prepared, to assist with childbirth," he declared aloud.

"That's impossible." A look of bewilderment appeared across Karus' face. He then shut his eyes and raised a single hand towards Cynthia's pregnant belly. His body suddenly convulsed, and he stumbled back, an amuse smile replacing his scowl. "Incredible", he uttered.

"Karus, we don't have time for this!" Chrovan shoved him aside and continued his preamble. "Trisha, you are under arrest by order of his Holiness, the Paladin Pardue, for malicious witchcraft and conspiracy against the town's citizens." He lunged for her.

Trisha timidly stabbed at his belly with her tiny ineffectual knife.

The blade probably never would've even penetrated his chainmail, were it to hit her intended target. Chrovan quickly disarmed her and subsequently trapped her arm. He then bent it sharply to one side, over-extending her elbow and forcing her to submit.

"Let me go!" She wailed in pain as she helplessly struggled within the warlord's grasp.

Chrovan maintained his grip, and began dragging the apprehended suspect back towards the temple.

Another squad of four well-armored guards joined the scene. Abner could hear their metallic marching from several hundred feet away. _I guess that's it,_ Abner thought. _Well, that was anticlimactic._

"Cynthia," one of the other guards decreed, "for the crime of housing and engaging in forbidden relations with a werewolf, you are also under arrest."

"What?" Karus turned to them, looking shocked. He then spun around to Cynthia, who was also equally confused.

"The hand that you found, the one that was brought before His Holiness," one of the armored thugs remarked to Chrovan, "the one that belonged to her late husband, belonged to a lycanthrope." They already had their silvered weapons drawn. Two of them wielded longswords, one brandished a halberd, and the last one possessed a two-handed crossbow.

"No!" Trisha blurted out in anguish. "She didn't know!" Chrovan tugged at her arm again, silencing her.

"Come with us peacefully, or we will use force," another guard followed up, advancing with a halberd poised at the helpless pregnant woman.

"Give it a rest, would you?" Abner snapped at the encroaching sentry. Abner was always annoyed at the pomposity and overzealous nature of nobility and their hired goons. "What's she gonna do to you? She's pregnant."

"I won't hurt you! Unless you give me a reason to!" The guard shouted.

Abner felt his arm tense up, and resisted the urge to strike the man in the back of his head. Given their current situation of being in an unfamiliar city and surrounded by people who aggressively distrusted and persecuted strangers, he decided that this was not the best time to be making more enemies.

"You won't hurt my child!" Cynthia crawled backwards, increasing the distance between herself and the party. She halted her advance when she bumped into another mysterious stranger, who had stepped out from the shadows. He had a grizzled beard, dark black hair, and wore tanned leather armor across his entire body. Atop his armor there was a green cloak with green and brown leaves clinging onto the fabric. His left hand, which was wrapped in bloodstained bandages, poked out from beyond the folds of his garb. He reached down and laid both of his hands upon the frightened female.

Cynthia struggled for a moment, but he held her tightly. "I'm here, my moon," a deep and masculine voice whispered calmly into her ear, as he helped her stand to her feet. These words cause her eyes to widen, and she ceased her thrashing. The man held her tenderly, taking great care to support her back and pregnant belly.

Abner could infer from the irregular dip in the bandaged left hand that his two last fingers were missing. _It's him._

She spun around to face him, and suddenly recoiled a second after their eyes finally met. "Who are you?" She slowly backed away from him.

"It's me," the stranger reached out to her, attempting to touch her face. "The real me," he attempted to explain, but she kept her distance.

"Travis?" She replied, staring deeper into his eyes.

"I'll explain more in a bit," he said to Cynthia soothingly.

The guards grew more impatient with each passing second. "Now, who in the Nine Hells are you? Get out of the way, or I'll have you thrown in a dungeon for interfering!" The man advanced closer and raised his hafted blade high to the sky. At at the slightest provocation, he could bring the halberd down in a killing stroke.

The hooded newcomer with the missing fingers walked past the stunned and silent pregnant woman. "I'm not going anywhere," he growled.

"Boss," one of the underlings spoke up. "I don't recognize him, do you think he's a-?"

"Werewolf." The ringleader completed his underling's sentence, and instantly became hostile. "Kill it!" He commanded.

The unnamed vagrant dashed towards the polearm-wielding guard without warning, and swung his cape upward, creating a fan pattern. The initial display obscured the follow-up, which Abner could only hear; a deep-throated grunt followed by the ringing shifting of chainmail. The sentry fell to the earth with a visible mark of shattered rings in the chainmail where his ribs would be hiding under. His jaw had become slack and his eyes rolled over.

"Bastard!" The crossbowman took aim with a silver-tipped bolt.

The lone ranger swiftly zigzagged towards the shooter, at one point in his movement using Abner as cover. Abner realized what he was doing, just in time. A bolt spiralled toward him, with intentions of slaying the other, but Abner had to dropping to the ground to not be impaled by the crossfire. It sailed over his head, gently brushing his hair as it passed and landed harmlessly in the dirt several dozen feet away.

"Get out of the way!" The shooter rudely reprimanded him and started frantically reloading the large clunky weapon. He began to turn the metallic crank that would pull back the two-handed crossbow is thick and powerful string.

The stranger cleared the distance between then and swung something metallic upward and into the base of the man's helmet, instantly uprooting him. The man flew back and toppled limply onto the third man, effectively knocking two to the ground with one blow. The conscious one struggled to stand, but the weight of his ally, summed with both of their armor and equipment, kept him pathetically pinned.

The fourth and final man, armed with a sword, swung it at the newcomer's head.

The stranger blocked the cut with a secondary weapon he had discreetly drawn, and finally Abner could see that he was wielding a shortsword in his dominant hand, and a one-handed warhammer in the other. With a single downward swing, the stranger used the warhammer to disarm the swordsman. The stranger then swiped his shortsword across the guard's legs in one smooth motion.

The guard's knees immediately gave out, and he fell forward onto his bleeding knees, screaming in agony. He looked up to glare at his foe, only to have his helmet knocked off by a wound-up hammer strike to the side of the head. The fourth had fallen.

The third man, still trapped under an unconscious comrade, reached for a silvered blade that was barely out of his reach. His fingertip barely grazed the pommel before the newcomer kicked it away. A single rake of the warhammer across his terrified face ended his struggle immediately.

The mysterious stranger had single-handedly slain the four guards who had shown up uninvited.

Chrovan released the woman Trisha and brandished his mace and kite shield at the stranger, preparing to launch another attack against the considerably skilled assailant.

Trisha shook off his grasp and ran back to her sister, holding Cynthia tightly and making sure she wasn't hurt.

"Those fancy dual wielding tactics won't work on me," Chrovan said, somehow still unfazed by the stranger's incredible display of martial talent.

"You must be the scaly one's friends," the man said nonchalantly. "I'd wager that you are Chrovan." He continued.

"You know Grelos?" Chrovan asked, lowering his guard half-way. "Is he still alive?"

"Yes, he is; we saved him from Zanzibar's wolves yesterday," the man replied, sheathing his weapons. He then boldly walked past Chrovan's weapon attack range, as if he were certain that Chrovan wouldn't attack him. It was a risky gamble, but it proved to be the true. "If you want to see him, come with me immediately," he offered the party as he walked over to Cynthia and Trisha.

"Wait, who are you?" Karus interjected.

"Yeah, why should we even trust you?" Uriko added.

"My name is Marcus," he addressed Karus' inquiry first, and then immediately Uriko's. "Grelos told me about you three as well, Uriko, Karus, and Abner." He pointed to the defeated guards, who were still lying motionless in the mud. "That's the only reason I haven't done that to you."

 _Yeah, I'd like to see you try,_ Abner wanted to retort, but held his tongue. While the party was preoccupied with a conversation with Marcus, Abner discretely took a knee beside one of the slain guards, and pretended to adjust his bootstraps. Karus, Uriko, and Chrovan both continued to bicker with Marcus, pointing accusatory fingers and whatnot, but Abner paid their words no mind. When he found the opportunity, he nabbed an exposed coin purse from a belt. As he pocketed his newfound loot, the man whom he had just robbed groaned lightly and rolled his head to one side, indicating that he was still alive. Abner looked at the others, and realized that all of the town guards were unconscious, not dead; for some reason, Marcus had only dealt injuries, a broken bone here and a dislocation there, but not mortal wounds. _Why_?

"We're not going anywhere with you!" Trisha protested, forming an obstacle between Marcus and her sister. "It's your fault we're in this mess!" She shouted angrily.

"I'm so sorry, Trisha. And you too, my moon," he spoke to an unresponsive Cynthia, who refused to look him in the eye. "I've know I've been lying to you for a very long time, but it was for your own I can make this right! Just please, come with me!" He urged them.

Trisha held her sister and rubbed her shoulders reassuringly. After some silent contemplation, she stared back at Marcus with condemning eyes. "Lead the way, but don't think we trust you, or will ever forgive you."

"Understood," Marcus responded grimly. As he began escorting the sister pair out of the town, he also beckoned towards the party. "More guards are coming! Follow me quickly, or answer to them."

Abner, Uriko, Karus, and Chrovan all exchanged a troubled and confused look. Abner looked at the incapacitated guards, and back at the newfound loot and equipment he had acquired from his larcenous spree. _This isn't gonna look good_ , _no matter how I spin it,_ he concluded, and followed along. "Let's go, guys!"

Uriko and Karus shrugged and followed suit.

Chrovan stayed behind for a bit, but eventually joined them. And together, they fled the turbulent city of Crescent's Peak.

After some time of marching and bushwhacking through the forest, Abner could finally see the sun through a temporary parting in the skyward mist. It was dipping lower behind the treeline with each passing moment; it would be dark soon.

Abner felt less comfortable in the wilderness, despite his elven heritage. Each step on unpaved earth was either slippery or gave under his weight, which slowed him down and reduced his agility. And the constant annoyance of small biting critters also added to the unpleasant experience. However, the one exception that he enjoyed about the wilderness, was the abundance of hiding spots. As the twilight crept upon the fleeing party, Abner felt his eyes quickly adapting to the low-light, and the shadows welcomed him in their cold, dark embrace. _Too bad there's no gold or silver in the woods_.

The large group finally arrived at a moderately sized cave entrance at the base of a large hill, deep within the woods. Abner had attempted to memorize the path they had taken, but after passing several nearly identical trees he had long since given up. Once they had arrived at the endpoint, Abner took a refreshing quaff from his waterskin. The others seemed to share in his exhaustion, except for Uriko, who remained spritely as ever.

As they approached the mouth of the cave, they stood at the nexus of an atrium of evergreen trees, which all had figures poorly hiding themselves behind the stumps. Abner, feeling nervous, discretely retrieved one of his knives and concealed it against his forearm. _An ambush? Maybe this wasn't the best idea after all._ He whispered to Karus, "Do you see them?"

"Yes," Karus whispered in return. He was prepared to use his shaman magic, if necessary, judging by how tightly he was clenching his staff with both hands.

"I have returned!" Marcus loudly announced.

In response to his words, the shadowy figures emerged from behind the trees, revealing more humanoid creatures. Most of them were human, some were elves, and where a few halflings and half-elves thrown into the mix as well. They all wore tattered clothing consisting of crudely stitched together leather and cloth; they had foraged for a majority of their clothing, or scavenged them from the dredges of society. Many of them had leaves in their bushy, unkempt hair, and all of them were armed with either a half-rusted metal weapon, or a primitive wood and stone tool.

One of the humans broke from the ring and approached the party. He wore a red shirt over brown pants and black boots, and had a lanky build. He had a head of short, thick, brown hair and some prickly stubble all around his face. A large brown and black spotted dog with large drooped-ver ears and and wide, chubby snout followed in his footsteps, its tail wagging happily. "Welcome home," the unnamed man said comfortingly as he and Marcus embraced.

"Thomas, it's good to see you too," Marcus returned the greeting. He gestured towards Trisha and her sister Cynthia. "Please, take them to be fed and cared for," he requested.

"Certainly, Marcus," Thomas replied. Before he left, he pointed towards the others, finally acknowledging them. "I've never seen these four before. Are they friends with Grelos?"

"Yes, of course," Marcus continued sheepishly, like as if he had entirely forgetting about them. "They are friendly. Please take them in as well."

The unnamed dog ran up to Uriko and rubbed its body against her leg before it began circling around her.

Uriko leaned down to pet the friendly creature. She mouthed something inaudible to the creature as she scratched the back of its ears. "Your name is Table Scraps?" Uriko laughed. "That's an...interesting choice."

Thomas clapped his hands twice, causing the dog to freeze and sit upright, staring at him. "Come on, girl," he commanded with a wave.

Table Scraps whined as she stayed beside Uriko, staring directly at Thomas with yearnful puppy-dog eyes.

Thomas sighed in defeat. "Fine, just don't run off again like last time." He started leading them into the darkness beyond the mouth of the cavern.

The interior was dimly lit with red bioluminescent fungi, blue glowing worms that clung onto the walls, and the occasional campfire with some other humanoids huddled around.

They arrived at a vacated resting spot, save for a single easily recognizable fellow. Grelos had his arm in sling and was wrapped in several white bandages on his torso, legs, and free hand. He almost looked like a mummy, which was oddly amusing.

"Grelos! You're alive!" Uriko shouted gleefully as she rushed over to hug him.

Grelos twisted his face in pain. "I still have a wound there," he groaned out.

"Sorry!" Uriko released him and jumped back, embarrassed. "I'm so glad you're okay!"

"Glad to see you too." Grelos adjusted the strap that housed his injured arm.

"You look terrible," Abner joked, feeling strangely relieved to see his ally alive.

"Thanks," Grelos grumbled. "You look like shit, too." He coughed twice.

Finally, Chrovan stepped closer to Grelos and extended his hand towards him, smiling. "Good to see you alive and well, Grelos."

"The feeling is mutual," Grelos shook his arm firmly, also grinning. The two held a sentimental stare for a few seconds before separating.

Everyone crowded around a comfortingly warm campfire as Thomas handed each and every one of them a roll of bread and some chopped-up meat of unknown origin.

Abner sampled it once, and did not recognize the flavor or texture. It was gamy and had a musky scent, but was also simultaneously well salted and cooked well. _Man, this meat is surprisingly juicy,_ he thought as he took another bite. _I wonder what-? Never mind._ He considered asking the others as to what it was, but figured out that ignorance would be preferable in this situation.

As Thomas tended to the party's needs, Marcus escorted Cynthia and Trisha to a separate quarters, which was hidden deeper in the caves.

Abner decided to eavesdrop.

He saw that Trisha would not let Marcus come any nearer to her sister, no matter how many times he tried to approach her.

"I'll never forgive you for keeping this from us," Trisha condemned him. "You put my sister's life in danger with your charade, werewolf!"

Marcus remained silent and kneeled down to assist carrying their equipment.

Trisha intercepted him and yanked her knapsack out of his grasp. "We can take care of ourselves." She attempted to dismiss him. "You've done enough."

Marcus was clearly growing frustrated. Held his tightly clenched hands at his sides and spoke slowly. "I needed to hide it. It wasn't safe. What the hell was I supposed to do?!" His voice grew in volume and deepness as his frustration mounted, as if his wolf-half were bursting through.

Without provocation, Cynthia ran up to him with her hands reaching out to his face. She grabbed him at both sides of his hair-covered cheeks and pulled herself up to his lips. She kissed him deeply, and held herself there for several seconds before releasing him. "I loved you, but I don't know who you are anymore," she said, choking back tears, before turning around and fleeing out of sight into her own quarters.

Marcus stood frozen and speechless. Those words visibly wounded him.

"We are staying here, and delivering the baby." Trisha announced forcefully. "And afterwards, I'm taking her away to somewhere safer. Away from the Feral Hearts, the New Moon Knights, and mostly, away from you!" She followed her sister, and disappeared from sight.

Trisha's loud declaration echoed through the chamber, and an awkward silence fell upon the residents. Abner finally looked away and returned to his food, having experienced enough awkwardness for a day.

Eventually, Marcus shambled over to where the party was sitting.

Grelos leaned closer to him and wordlessly handled him and nondescript black bottle of liquid with a chewed-up cork.

Marcus weakly accepted the bottle from Grelos, removed the cork, and started chugging the liquid as they others watched in silence.

Abner noticed that Marcus had recently replaced the bandages on his left hand, but they had already been dyed red again from blood. Marcus had a grimace on his face as he attempted to suppress the pain with drink.

"How...why did that happen?" Abner couldn't help but pry.

Marcus finished swallowing his mouthful of alcohol. "When Trisha found out I was a werewolf, she took matters into her own hands." He tried to joke, but the pain from the wound was still apparent on his mind. "She's a very talented artificer," he reluctantly admitted before he took another long swig, savored the taste, and swallowed. "She only meant to protect her sister. It hurt like hell, but I don't blame her."

"How come your wife didn't recognize your face?" Abner inquired further.

"We used to be able to blend in with just our human forms. But with time, the townsfolk became more tight-knit, and therefore distrusting of strangers. Our leaders devised magic spells to change our faces to match another's. It helps if..." he paused, seeming conflicted to divulge further. "It helps if the person in question is dead, so they can't compromise your disguise."

 _I get it_ , Abner understood. _And she never knew, all this time._ Abner returned to his meal, having heard enough.

After finishing his humble but serviceable meal, Abner smelled the air, and it smelled like a wet dog. He noticed that the other people looked malnourished and sickly; many of the young and elderly were coughing as they laid in scraggly bedrolls. They ate rats or whatever small game they could catch. Most of them were barefoot or wore tattered shoes with open toes. It was a wretched existence, but they did not appear to be in despair. They appeared to be sharing their food and supplies with one another, and whenever he accidentally made eye-contact with one of them, they would give him a kind smile. Some of them had visible scars on their bodies, which showed through their ragged clothing.

"Are all these people lycanthropes as well?" Karus inquired.

"Most of us are. Thomas, and a few others, are not," Marcus explained as he pointed them out.

"Then, are you affiliated with the Feral Hearts?" Karus asked.

"We belong to neither the Feral Hearts of Crescent's Peak," Marcus said as he handed off an unknown parcel to a passerby elderly woman. She gave him a grateful nod before slinking away. "We are people who have managed to live together in peace. And thusly, we are outcasts to both sides."

"Was it always like this?" Uriko was holding her hands up to the fire.

Marcus looked forlorn. "Our people used to live in an uneasy, but adequate peace. We didn't bother the people, and in return, the townsfolk didn't trespass into our sacred lands." Marcus sighed deeply, and continued in a weathered voice. "That all changed when Pardue and Zanzibar showed up."

"What happened then?" Chrovan said as he pushed Table Scraps away from his seat. She was shuffling around them and attempting to steal food. "How did the war start?"

"They drew lines in the sand," Thomas explained. He threw a piece of meat onto the ground, grabbing his canine's attention and drawing her away from pestering Chrovan. "When they arrived, peace died. If you aren't with us, you're against us. There was no middle ground."

"I see." Karus nodded. "And what of the child? How is it possible that an unborn child could summon a dire wolf spirit?"

"That is news to me," Marcus remarked, passing the bottle of alcohol back to Grelos. "Truth be told, I do not know what my child is, or what he or she is even capable of. My wife and I have been together for almost five years now; my alias in the town was Travis, named after a man who perished in a logging accident," he deluged the details. "We were unable to have any children, despite trying," he said as he rubbed his neck. "Then one day, she found out that she was with child. And I just knew. The gods, the spirits, or something had gifted us with a child. A child born of both worlds. A child that could be the symbol of peace, of a coexistence between the tribes." His words carried a sense of hope.

"It won't work," Chorvan replied coldly. "At best, both sides will see it as just another nobody. At worst, both sides will see it as threat, and want it eliminated."

"Thanks for that uplifting message," Abner snapped. "Almost had a moment there."

Chrovan sneered back at him. "If it doesn't fit the narrative of those in power, then it has no purpose." He put his unfinished plate of food aside on an empty stump, clearly not having enjoyed his meal. Table Scraps view this as an opportunity and dove into, gobbling the rest of his meal with utmost enthusiasm.

"It's foolish, I know," Marcus agreed, shaking his head. "But it's hope. And it's all we have left. If we can reach a few, we can inspire change. It wasn't that long ago that our ancestors lived in peace. We can remind the people of that," he said sincerely.

"Maybe not all is lost, after all." Karus nodded in agreement. "Whatever the reason, your child is truly amazing," he remarked. "I am certain he or she has a great destiny before them," the shaman said as he patted Marcus' back.

A shirtless youth, wearing tattered beige pants and barefoot, charged into the scene and knelt beside Marcus. After catching his breath, he divulged, "Marcus! We've spotted three in the forest. The are five miles south of here!"

Marcus stood upright. "Did they find us?"

The scout shrugged, and followed up. "One had a spear and the other had a shield and sword. Those two looked like town guards, not New Moons."

"Dammit," Karus muttered. "Lance and Frelick followed us."

 _Not those two again._ Abner groaned as he buried his face in his hands in annoyance.

In the silence, everyone could hear Cynthia in the other room moaning in pain as her sister comforted her with positive words.

"We can't leave now; not in Cynthia's current state," Marcus decided. "Is that all?" He asked, inspecting the child to make sure he wasn't seriously injured. "You made sure you weren't followed back here?"

"No," the boy said confidently. "I tripled back, like you trained us to."

"We have enough time, then," Marcus decided. "We need to make a stand." He turned to boy. "Tell the others to get ready. Get anyone who can fight ready to defend the cave. Get the others who cannot fight back inside immediately."

The messenger finally stood upright, his eyes brimming with a child-like fear. "I saw him, the Broken Sword. He was with them."

Uriko's ears perked up, as if the meaningless phrase meant something profound to her.

"Who?" Karus asked the youth, who avoided eye contact with the party.

"Run along, now. Back to your mother," Marcus dismissed the youth. "He's the first New Moon Knight," Marcus began. "We mockingly referred to him as Broken Sword, because when he first arrived all he had was a broken silvered blade. But that's not important, we-"

Uriko interrupted him. "Who is he?"

"What?" Marcus was completely caught off-guard by Uriko's frantic inquiry. "Why does that matter? We have to-"

"Who was the man with the broken sword?!" She rushed forward and seized Marcus by the collar with both hands. Her voice, usually calm and gentle, roared like a tiger and echoed across the stone walls. "Give me his name!"

"Why do you care?" Marcus barked back.

"Tell me!" Uriko shook him forcefully. The cavern residents backed away from her, as if driven by instinctual fear.

Marcus pushed her off. "His name is Adamance. He's Pardue's right hand."

"What does he look like?!" She shook him forcefully once more. Abner could see that her claws were fully extended, and her canines had grown longer and sharper.

"I don't know his face, but he wears a red cape." Marcus continued to speak as softly as he could, in an attempt to calm down the seething Uriko.

Uriko backed away from him, not saying another word. She hung her head down and clenched her hands at her sides.

"Adamance, huh?" Chrovan seemed oddly chipper about the news. "Good, I get to settle a score," he stood up and gathered his belongings.

"No killing," Marcus commanded him. "We do not need to add more fuel to his fire."

"Then what the hell are we gonna do?" Abner shouted in protest. "Ask them to kindly leave us alone?" He twirled his daggers in both hands, limbering his chilled fingers.

"Well, I'm not going to stand idly by if they plan to hurt a newborn, especially one with the potential to change the world." Karus accepted the terms, and would agree to fight alongside him as well.

Abner noticed that Uriko had not said a word, and was now hurriedly packing her belongings. She slung the bag over her back and quickly headed outside without explanation.

"Where is she going?" Thomas asked aloud.

"Maybe she's getting ready?" Chrovan hypothesized. "She's usually harvesting stuff from nature for spell components and whatnot."

"I dunno, I'll ask her. Watch my stuff for me, okay?" Abner requested Grelos, without waiting for his response, and dashed after the shifter.

Uriko had covered a great distance by the time Abner caught up to her. The sky had gone dark blue with the impending nightfall.

"Uriko, wait up, would you?" Abner shouted at her, but she did not respond or slow her pace. He pushed aside some webs that had snagged his face, and was eventually within arms reach of her. He laid a hand on her shoulder to get her attention. "What are you doing? Why won't you-?"

"Don't touch me!" Uriko slapped his hand off.

"What's going on?" Abner tried to calm her down. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to kill him," she said through clenched teeth. "I'm going to kill Adamance," she repeated, her whole frame trembling.

"I don't understand."

"You don't have to understand. Just stay out of my way!" Uriko started walking off again.

"Why does this mean so much to you?" Abner questioned.

"It means everything to me!" Uriko shoved him back as she roared like an enraged tiger. The blow forced him off his feet and onto his back. He pushed himself off of the dirt and looked up at her. She had tears streaking down her face and her claws bared as she took fast, frantic breaths.

"He was right there, right in front of me. That paladin was spoon-feeding me his lies and I just ate them up!" She cried out, her voice steeped with anguish and regret.

"Where are you going?" Abner asked her. "It's not safe out there," he reasoned.

Uriko would not listen, and turned away before sprinting off into the greenery.

Abner quickly recovered to his feet and chased after her. To his dismay, he was met with an empty forestscape that stretched as far as he could see. There was no sign of her; Uriko had evaded him in an instant somehow, much to his frustration. _Where did you go?_ Abner frantically searched for her in the encroaching darkness, but could not find any trace of her. As night fell, Abner gave up on on his search and rushed back towards the cave to prepare for the fight to come.


	10. The Darkest Knight

Uriko waited until Abner's footsteps faded away into the distance, signalling that she was finally alone. She then revoked her druidic magic and reversed her beast shape spell as she emerged from the brush. Her bones and muscles contorted and stretched as she painlessly shapeshifted out of her tiny animal form and back into her humanoid body. She remembered the layout of the forest; despite the repeating nature of the terrain, there were always subtle hints etched into the earth that a person could use as landmarks, granted they had the training and a perceptive enough eye. Uriko quickly recovered her bearings and discerned north. Through this she inferred which direction she would need to travel southward to intercept the three-man scouting party.

 _Three against one. I'm going to need some help,_ she contemplated. After some time contemplating in silence, she had simmered down, and felt a pang of regret for running off on her own. She dispelled her doubts, reminding herself of her ultimate objective. _Lance and Frelick will be easy to handle,_ she figured. If she could find a way to separate them from their superior, she would have a direct line towards the man named Adamance.

The meager brush of the Lamenting Woods' deciduous forest was nothing compared to the dense and hot jungle climate in which she had trained and honed her own survival instincts. She traveled much faster on her own; her speed was unfettered by the others, whom were more acclimated to crossing urban environments. _They would only slow me down_. She had trained her whole life in the ways of nature and magic, and fate had served a mortal enemy to her, mostly unprotected and within her prime element. _I might not get another chance like this_.She would not let this opportunity pass her.

It was not much longer until she spotted the trio at the distance. She had changed herself once more into a small auburn striped cat in order to improve her climbing ability, and took to the trees to secure a safe vantage point. From above the canopy of long fan-shaped leaves, she watched and stalked her potential prey.

"The trail's gone cold!" She heard Frelick announcing loudly.

"Quiet, you idiot!" Lance swiftly reprimanded him with a slap across the back of the head. "Do you want every Feral Heart to come running to us?"

"Let them come," a third voice came from a heavily armored man who emerged from the brush with a hand-and-a-half sword clutched in one hand. "If they wish to die, then I'll be happy to oblige," the faceless black knight grumbled from behind his ghastly helmet. Uriko could also see the red cape that draped over his shoulders, tracking foliage and earth. With every breath he took, steam poured from the slits in the helm like smoke from a blazing furnace. She peered at his peculiar blade, and confirmed her assumptions; there was a faint marking along the backbone of the blade, like a lightning bolt that streaked from crossguard to tapered tip, indicating that it was previously cracked. _I found you._ Uriko clenched her teeth and dug her feline claws into the bark of the tree as her rage boiled inside her.

She returned her attention back to the two uninvited fellows. _I'd rather not hurt them_. Karus seemed to have a soft spot for them, so she decided that she would spare them, if possib;e. In order to do so, she would need to separate them with a distraction. She climbed back down to the central trunk and onto the roots, taking great care not to make any noise or disturb nearby foliage. She then searched the earth and found a smooth rock about her palm's width in diameter. After taking careful aim, she threw it as far and as hard as she could. It sailed through the air and struck a distant tree, causing a flock of nesting birds to disperse. The dead silence was sundered by a wild commotion of flapping wings and rustling leaves.

"What was that?" Frelick blurted out.

Lance drew his sword in response.

Uriko acquired a second stone, reared her arm back, and launched it in another direction. It flew through some bushes before rolling along the dirt and gravel, creating more noise.

"Did anyone see anything?" Lance informed his group.

"Nothing! Did we walk into an ambush?" Frelick asked shakily.

"Calm yourself, boy," the third voice growled.

Uriko focused her willpower and began to manipulate the mist with her druidic magic. She controlled the cloud to engulf the area and grow denser, further obscuring her movements as she carefully circled around them.

"You two, over there," Uriko could hear the knight's orders behind the veil.

 _Perfect._ She continued her silent spellcasting until it was almost impossible to see a few feet in front of her own face. When her eyes had failed her, she began to rely on her nose and ears to navigate through the dark and shrouded forest. _Where did you go?_ She leaned against the large coarse and chipping bark of a nearby tree for cover and effortlessly resumed her humanoid form. She paused when her ears caught the sound of approaching footsteps. She moved closer and crouched behind a nearby shrubbery with prickly leaves and sweet-smelling berries. There, she waited.

There was a steady crunching of leaves, followed by the dull sliding and grinding of interlocked steel plates that grew louder as the entity approached. Uriko calmed her beating heart with slow and steady breaths, further reducing her presence. She had one hand placed firmly on the ground, touching the roots of the tree.

 _Just a little closer._ A single bead of icy sweat rolled down her brow as she waited. Her prey was almost within her grasp, and the anticipation was almost unbearable.

The unseen figure took one last step and arrived within two paces of her exact location.

 _Now!_ Uriko expended her last reserves of druidic magic and commanded the roots to suddenly grow rapidly, instantly reaching out and ensnaring the armored individual. Without hesitation, she drew out a small iron dagger from a hide sheath hidden in her boot. She had rarely ever used it, but always kept it on her person as a precaution. She arose from her hiding spot, awkwardly clutching the unfamiliar weapon in a reverse grip.

Some of the fog had cleared from the sudden motions, allowing her to clearly see her opponent. The tendrils of hardened plant matter had wrapped around his legs and up to his chest in seconds, slowing his movements considerably. He had also dropped his sword in the chaos, which was now lying on the ground beside him, out of reach. Her enchanted plant eventually snaked its way up to his arms, further constricting him. His army was thick and bulky; the tiny dagger would be entirely ineffective if she attempted to penetrate the carapace, so she would have to plunge it through a gap.

"Are you Adamance?" She asked, waiting for vines to completely immobilize his arms.

The man did not struggle; the roots were thick and long, and which would've taken someone with immense strength to tear through. He simply turned his head to face her, and Uriko could see his shimmering blue eyes beneath the partially raised grate of his visor. "At your service," he said proudly. "To whom do I owe this pleasure?"

"My name is Uriko," she declared proudly as she stared fiercely back into his eyes. "And this is for my family. The family you stole from me." She dashed towards him, rearing the knife back. Her eyes centered upon her target, which was now held perfectly still; there was a slight breach between the gorget and the top of his breastplate, which would allow her to slip the blade deep past his collarbone and down into the heart. _Die, you bastard!_

In a feat of unprecedented strength, Adamence stepped forward, shattering his restraints as if they were made out of rotten wood. He raised a single gauntleted hand.

Uriko was already committed to her charge, and could not adjust her trajectory in time.

Adamance reached out and slammed the web of his hand into her throat. Uriko gagged as the strike sent a painful jolt across her entire body. The momentum of her downward swing continued to carry the knife towards her adversary, but her sudden discombobulation caused her to miss the mark entirely. The dagger tip glanced harmlessly against Adamance's pauldron before it slipped from her grip entirely and flew from her hand.

Adamance tightened his grasp around her throat, cutting off her breathing. The snaking vines around his entire body did little to hold him in place, and they pathetically shriveled up and fell off of his body with each subsequent motion. He lifted Uriko off of her feet with a single hand and constricted further, not saying a word.

Uriko clawed at his arm, in an attempt to force him to free her, but her claws glanced ineffectively off the nearly frictionless steel plates that surrounded his limbs. As the vicegrip of steel and leather continued to asphyxiate her, she started to thrash violently to free herself, but Adamance held fast. Her vision began to blur and dim, making it impossible to focus long enough to cast a spell. And even if she could, her magical reserves had been spent. _No, not like this!_ She feebly attempted to pry his hand off her throat as tears of anguish rolled down the sides of her face.

Adamance twisted his hips and slammed her into the dirt with his brute strength. Time seemed to slow as Uriko descended; she could feel and hear the snapping of the chain that secured Trisha's pendant around her neck. The sudden concussive impact as she landed caused her vision to go black temporarily. As the world spun around her, Uriko could taste blood at the back of her mouth. She struggled to catch her breath through her strained windpipe, and could now barely move her bruised and battered body. Her vision began to clear as she weakly rolled to one side.

Adamance stood before her, brushing off the last remnants of her ensnaring roots, completely unfazed. "Now that you've finally come out of hiding, we can greet each other properly," he mused. He started walking past her, towards his sword.

 _No._ Uriko, fueled by her hatred, shut out the pain that wracked her battered body and reached for his leg, weakly grasping at the greaves. She clenched her jaw tightly as she dragged her limp and beaten body closer to him.

Adamance easily shook her grasp off with a shake of his leg, and knelt over to retrieve his sword. The silvered blade glowed dimly in the moonlight as he approached her with murderous intent.

 _Not like this,_ Uriko thought. She clawed at the dirt, desperately attempting to call upon whatever strength she had left. But her injuries had taken too great a toll, and all of her senses have been knocked out of her. Her vision faded in and out as the seconds crawled past. Her mouth tasted sour, as if whatever was in her stomach was churning back up to mix with the blood flowing pass her gritted teeth. She could not hear anything but a shrill ringing.

The black knight stood before her, sword clutched in both hands and resting the flat against his shoulder. Adamance then mouthed something to her, but Uriko was unable to discern anything he was saying. She could only watch, helpless, as he raised the silver-cored fang skyward, aimed it at her exposed and outstretched neck. Paralyzed by fear, she could not look away.

Suddenly, Lance and Frelick burst into the scene, interrupting the knight. The three exchanged some indiscernible words amongst each other before Adamance resumed carrying out the execution. Frelick peered over Adamance's shoulder and his gaze fell upon Uriko. A sudden look of horror washed over his face, and he rushed quickly to her side. Adamance stopped his killing stroke mid-swing, just barely missing the kindhearted fool. Frelick did not even notice that he almost got himself cut in half as he knelt down beside her. She could see his lips moving as he gently placed a reassuring hand on her mangled body. Without warning, he was abruptly knocked aside by Adamance armored boot, which caught him at the shoulder. Lance rushed over to his brother's side, angrily shouting some unintelligible words as Adamance ignored him and shifted his attention back to finishing her off.

Uriko looked up to Adamance, prepared to be reunited with her tribe once more. As he raised the blade and prepared to bring it down, an unknown mass of black fur streaked into the scene from the edge of her periphery, slamming into Adamance and forcing him backwards. He immediately regained his bearings and entered a lowered stance with his sword in a two-handed grip, poised for a stab, and the flat of the blade parallel to the ground.. A massive creature covered with inky black fur had cut him off, and was now holding the three of them back. Uriko could see the faintest outline of blue spots in the creature's fur, and she instantly recognized that it was the mysterious feral direwolf from before. The wolf continued to snap it jowls at the men before it reared its head back and howled towards the sky. Within seconds, several other grey wolves had emerged from the forest, aiding the wolf's already terrifying intimidation.

Adamance, Lance, and Frelick began slowly backing away, their weapons still brandished at the dire wolf mother and her pack. They eventually turned around and fled out of sight as a few of the wolves gave chase into the forest. The pack had successfully driven off the knight and his compatriots, effectively saving her life for the moment.

The direwolf finally turned its attention over to Uriko, and approached her slowly, finally stopping when its snout was hovering directly above her, obscuring all other vision. The dripping, bloodstained mouth drew closer to Uriko's face, and she could smell the revolting scent of carrion with each suffocatingly hot exhale. The wolf then opened her massive teeth-lined mouth and began closing it around Uriko's face and chest, like a blanket of moist and warm flesh.

 _I'm sorry,_ Uriko wanted to say as she closed her eyes and submitted to her fate. She relaxed her whole body and gave into the warm, dark embrace of the wolf's maw.


	11. The Horizon

Grelos tightly gripped the hemp rope laid before him and pulled downwards, raising the counterweight hanging on the opposite end. Marcus stood behind him and was providing as much assistance he could, despite his injury. His missing fingers itched from time to time, but he ignored the irritating sensation the best he could. Meanwhile, Abner stood by and watched, nonchalantly picking his nails with a fancy-looking dagger. Together, Marcus and Grelos eventually managed to raise the counterweight all the way to the top, past the canopy of leaves.

Immediately, Abner rushed in and began securing the end of the rope. His fingers moved quickly, creating elaborate knots with the hemp fibers.

"Take your time," Grelos quipped sarcastically as his arms began to noticeably tremble.

Marcus silently mirrored Grelos' sentiment. A full day's worth of heavy lifting had finally started to cause him some noticeable discomfort.

"It takes a minute, thank you very much," Abner shot back as he worked. The end of the rope was now tied to a thick stick, and he carefully wedged the makeshift stopper into some slanted grooves that had been cut into the nearby he finally finished, he announced breathily, "Okay, slowly release it."  
Marus gradually eased his grasp, allowing the rope to slide past his raw palms. Grelos did the same, and eventually the line went completely taut, with the counterweight was held firmly in place. Abner's tripwire held fast, and trap was now properly set.

"Good, that's the last one," Marcus signed with relief. He took a moment to look back upon the several other net traps they had set around the perimeter. They too, kept their form, despite the occasional stray animal passing through; they were designed to only deploy under the weight of the average full-grown humanoid.

Preparations had taken them from dawn to dusk, but in so doing they had closed off several potential lanes of attack, creating chokepoints that they could more easily monitor and defend with their sparse numbers.

"Well done, everyone," Marcus announced aloud before taking a long deep drink from his waterskin.

"What can I say? It's a gift!" Abner boasted with a smug shrug.

Grelos pointed to a massive welt that had formed on the right side of his forehead. "Nice gift," he grumbled resentfully.

"How was I supposed to know which trees have harder or softer wood? It's Uriko's job to handle all the nature stuff." Abner predictably shifted the blame.

"Speaking of Uriko," Grelos started.

"Ugh, not this again." Abner turned on his heels and began to stroll away, not allowing Grelos to finish.

"You shouldn't have let her leave," the dragonborn spoke forcefully towards the half-elf's back.

"Believe me, I tried." The rogue's frustration was transparent. This conversation had repeated itself several times in the hours prior.

"She should not have gone out alone," Marcus added. "Even if she had a score to settle, it was foolish."

"It was more than some petty score," Abner explained. "She was so full of hate." He paused, furrowing his brows. "I could see it in her eyes."

Grelos scoffed, clearly unsatisfied with Abner's explanation.

"If she encountered the Broken Sword alone, I fear for her wellbeing," Marcus continued.

"Uriko's tough. She can take care of herself," Abner defensively dismissed him, but Marcus knew from Abner's nervous fidgeting throughout the day that the rogue was slowly becoming filled with doubt.

"I certainly hope so," Marcus replied. "The Broken Sword is a brutal and cunning adversary."

"Have you ever fought him before?" Grelos chimed in.

"Never directly," Marcus admitted with a sigh. "We've crossed paths a few times, but we were always instructed to run." He inspected one the nearby snares and redistributed the surrounding leaves, better obscuring it. "One time I looked back, just to see for myself. And I watched as he killed five of our own single-handedly." He could still remember their faces, twisted in agony as the silver-cored blade parted hide, flesh, and bone with ease. Each comrade slain always haunted him, and he was yet to grow numb to it all.

Abner pursed his lips anxiously. When his eyes met with Marcus' the rogue hastily peeled away, in an attempt to hide his encroaching dread.

Grelos placed a hand on Marcus' shoulder, gently releasing him from his morbid recollection. "That's enough, Marcus. We should head back."

"Way ahead of you." Abner took fast strides away from them.

"You should see how your wife is doing," Grelos nudged Marcus.

 _Cynthia._ Marcus yearned for her, and spending the past few days so separated had been more painful than he cared to admit. Before these tumultuous times, they had spent every morning and every evening together, and he never tired of her, nor she of him. Those quiet moments of serenity seemed now like a half-remembered dream. _Would she...no, should she ever forgive me?_ As much as he loved her fully, he had been lying to her for years now, and the facade had inevitably collapsed into a life-or-death scenario. "I don't think she'll want to see me," Marcus let out solemnly.

"Of course she'd want to see you, you're her husband," Grelos assured him as they sauntered back to the main camp beside one another.

"Am I?" Marcus whispered back. "Or am I the monster who wore her husband's face all these years?" The reality was bitter and difficult to swallow.

"Regardless, if you truly love her, go see her," Grelos retorted. "Don't wait, and allow words to be left unsaid. Believe me, it's unbearable." Grelos bit back saying any more, and quickened his pace, leaving Marcus trailing behind. The dragonborn's hands were tightly packed into scaly fists that swung to and fro with each forceful stride.

As the trio passed by the last of the trappers, Marcus called out to them. "Alright, everybody, head back to the cave. Stay together, and hide your tracks."

His pack did as they were instructed. Marcus noticed that throughout the day they had become fatigued and sluggish, yet they obeyed him without question. Marcus knew them all by name and treated them like family, and they reciprocated. They were stragglers and outcasts like; unable to find a home on either sides of the conflict, but they had found a place here.

 _Just like a family,_ Marcus thought, suddenly filled with hope. _But few of the them are fighters,_ he realized. _A kind heart does not aid in survival._ Marcus knew this cold hard truth through years of bloodshed and strife. Nevertheless, he could not question their loyalty. _We can make our stand here,_ he repeated mentally, bolstering his confidence.

The trio walked in silence as Marcus contemplated the words he wanted to say to Cynthia. When they were in view of the cavern once more, Grelos placed a hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of his stupor.

"What are you going to do after all of this?" Grelos inquired.

"I haven't thought that far," Marcus admitted drearily. "My only goal now is to keep my kin safe for the time being. When my child is born, perhaps he or she will become the symbol of hope we need to end this conflict." His weary frown slowly faded into a slight smile. _It was a naive, and old-fashioned sentiment,_ he secretly knew. And speaking the words out loud had only exacerbated his embarrassment.

But surprisingly, Grelos did not react with disdain. Instead, the dragonborn let out a throaty chuckle. "That's a lot of responsibility to put on a newborn."

The weight of it all returned to Marcus's shoulders. It felt like yesterday when he was still a boy, with no obligations or cares other than to serve his own interested. But now, he had his own pack to lead, as well as child on the way. He sighed deeply, unsure of how he would perform, given his recent immaturity. "Do you know what it's like to be a father? I have no experience on the matter." He laughed sheepishly.

Grelos remained silent for a moment, as if unsure of what answer to give. Eventually, he strained out, "Yes, I do. I have a son named Ahron."

"What's it like?" Marcus continued.

"It's like-" Grelos paused, looking at his dirt-caked claws. "You would give anything, including your life, to protect him. Like he's the best parts of yourself and your mate combined, and no matter what you've done in your life, if you do right by him, it will all be worth it."

Marcus' smiled widened. "Wow. That sounds incredible."

"It is."

The remainder of the day thankfully passed without incident. But every rustle of leaves or snapped twig caused Marcus to instinctively reach for a weapon. There would be no calm rest for him, not until he knew that they were truly safe.

Later that night, the party, Marcus and Thomas sat around a campfire laid out beside the mouth of the cave and shared rations. Uriko has not yet returned, but everyone was reluctant to mentioned it.

Marcus noticed that Abner kept his gaze outward into the darkening forest, occasionally scanning it for signs of their wayward shifter companion. Alas, the worried rogue would go wanting for the remainder of the night.

Somewhere far off in the distance, a faint howling echoed across the Lamenting Woods. Marcus held back his instinct to respond to the howl, and instead, accepted another drink of wine from Grelos' seemingly bottomless wineskin.

"What was that?" Chrovan asked aloud.

"A squirrel," Abner chided him with sarcasm. "What did you think it was?"

"Are those the Feral Hearts?" Grelos asked, ignoring the often squabbling thief and swordsman.

"Most likely," Marcus said as he nervously fidgeted with the straps on his leather vambraces. It had been years since he went rogue from the tribe, and yet he could clearly remember his days as a foot soldier for the werewolf clan. There was comfort and security in belonging to such a large and powerful tribe, but their views had become too radical to stomach for any longer. He gritted his teeth, bracing against the animal urge to return the call. "As long as they're far away, they can do as they please."

Table Scraps reared her head back pointing her snout towards the night sky, and began to let out a meager yowl in response.

"Don't even think about it, girl," Thomas said sharply, causing the dog to slink back into the lying position.

Unexpectedly, after the cacophony of distant wolf cries had subsided, the party was greeted with another commotion, this time coming from inside the cave. Marcus stood up, returned the wineskin to Grelos, and rushed in to investigate.

Karus followed quickly in Marcus' footsteps. Grelos stayed behind, too drunk to stand. Abner continued to watch the outside, yearning for his comrade's arrival. And Chrovan kept the fire fed as he reveled in the fire's warmth.

The source of the sounds led Marcus and Karus towards the chamber in which Cynthia and Trisha were staying. A small crowd had gathered near the entrance, and they spoke over one another in hushed tones. A mysterious fog had materialized from within the room, and was billowing out across the floor. Inside, Marcus could hear his wife groaning in pain, and the cry echoed throughout the bowels of the cave. _Is it happening now?_ Marcus' heart was filled with both joyful anticipation and dread. This would be an incredibly happy occasion, if it weren't for the horrendous timing. Marcus took a deep breath to steel his mind, and determinedly strode into the room.

"No, Marcus! Wait!" Karus cried out a late warning.

At the entrance, the fog coalesced and took the form of a dire wolf. The sight of the beast's formidable heft and fearsome yellow eyes caused Marcus to leap back several feet.

The spirit wolf stood vigilant before the entrance, barring passing to everyone who dared come near.

From the corner of Marcus' tunneling vision, Karus came into view and moved confidently past him. He faced the wolf with staff in hand, but with his guard lowered, as if presenting himself.

 _What are you doing?_ Marcus did not understand what the mystic was hoping to accomplish. Marcus had previously encountered shamanistic ways, but their abstract reasoning and philosophies always eluded him. _Why is it stopping me? I'm your father!_ He wanted to say, wounded.

"Hello again," Karus began politely with a bow. "I apologize for our previous encounter, and whatever injuries my comrades inflicted upon you."

The snarling beast seemed to calm as the shaman spoke softly and calmly.

"I would like to help, if you would permit us to enter," Karus completed his request.

The dire wolf spirit hesitated, cocking its head. Its lips pulled back over its teeth as its demeanor gradually softened.

Marcus took a half-hearted step closer, to test the seemingly calming waters. This time, the creature did not become hostile, but it continued to watch him intently with those piercing eyes.

"We mean you and your companion no harm. We are only here to help," Karus reiterated, after giving Marcus a reassuring nod.

"Please, let me see them," Marcus pleaded, staring back at the conjuration. More than anything, he wanted to make sure his wife and child were safe.

Several seconds of silent contemplation scraped by until at last, the spirit wafted to one side, opening up the passage into the inner sanctum.

"Thank you," Karus said respectfully. The shaman seemed to hold these apparitions with the utmost respect and reverence. Marcus had lived a life filled with conflict and strife, and therefore learned only how to solve problems through force and cunning. But the shaman's bizarre ways had easily overcome the obstacle that Marcus could not have bested martial prowess.

The two walked steadily side-by-side towards the sound of Marcus' ailing pregnant wife. "Thank you, Karus," Marcus whispered.

"No problem," the wise shifter responded. "It is my life's mission to speak with the spirits and hear their tales. They are not our enemies."

When they approached the sisters, Cynthia was lying on her back and grasping her belly in pain. Her sister shoot behind her, cradling her head and shoulders in her arms, attempting to provide her with some comfort.

"It hurts!" Cynthia strained out through gritted teeth as several beads of sweat coalesced into a small stream that ran down her brow. Her belly was full and seemed ready to burst. It would only be a matter of days now before their family would be one member larger. Marcus gulped nervously at the thought, both at his rapidly-approaching fatherhood as well as his immediate confrontation with his estranged wife.

Trisha was the first to notice their advance. "Who are you?" She questioned Karus quickly. "And what are you doing here?!" She steered her sneer towards Marcus. "I told you to stay away!"

"Please, we just want to help," Karus spoke calming, moving slowly closer with an outstretched hand.

"Stay away!" Trisha fumbled with her belongings for a half-second, and presented them with a long, narrow dagger.

Marcus flinched and averted his gaze at the mere sight of it, as it glowed brighter than the sun within the confines of the cave. _Silver_ , he realized.

"You think I wouldn't be prepared?" Trisha spoke forcefully. "Stay away from my sister, or I'll cut your black heart out myself!" Trisha was usually aloof and carefree, but Marcus knew, whenever her mood shifted to fire, the earth shook beneath her.

"Travis?" Cynthia, whom was still cradled in her sister's hands, regained her breath and weakly turned her head to face the approaching pair. "Is that you?"

"No," Trisha whispered to her, purposefully loud enough for Marcus to hear. "It's just the mangy cur that wore your husband's face." Each syllable she produced dripped with acid.

"You-" Marcus felt the primal rage within him boil up, but he held himself back. The truth cut deeper into him than any knives could. "Please, let us-"

Trisha would not let him finish. "You lied to us! And in do doing, you put our lives in danger!" She tore into him with contempt.

Marcus found no words to counter her. He simply watched them intently while shielding his vision from the scorching visage of the metal, which came as a painful reminder of his own inhuman nature. He felt a great pain in his chest as his ears focused on Cynthia's pained mewling.

"Get out!" Trisha screamed at the two of them, threateningly waving the knife in a wide arc. "Come back, and I'll-"

Cynthia cut off her words with another sharp gasp.

Trisha hushed her and began rocking her ailing sister in her arms. "It's going to be okay."

Karus, immune and therefore unperturbed by the silvered weapon, dropped down to his knees and kept his distance. "Kaiba, come," he spoke, summoning forth his wolf companion.

Trisha raised her knife again, startled at the sudden appearance of the wolf. "You can do it, too?"

"Yes, I am a shaman," Karus began to explain. "The dire wolf spirit was conjured because the child is under duress." He paused, as Cynthia groaned aloud once more. "I know you care much for your sister. Please, allow me to help her."

More than ever before, Marcus wished he could simply ignore the silver and rush to his wife's side, to hold and comfort her.

"What can you do?" Trisha remained stubbornly skeptic.

"I have healing magic," Karus insisted. He pulled back the sleeve on his left arm, fully exposing his hairy paw. The palm began to glow a calming blue as tendrils white smoke swirled about with each minute movement of his fingers.

Trish hesitated, and contemplated in silence for a few agonizing seconds. She kept the knife outstretched, but gestured with if for Karus to come closer.

Karus heeded her requested, and closed the distance between them.

Trisha placed the blade up to his collarbone, threatening his neck. At that proximity, it would've started to scorch his flesh, were he a lycanthrope. "Help her, if you can," she started shakily. "But suffer no delusions; if you harm her in any way, you die right here." Silvered or not, a blade across the throat kills most people, so her threat rang true.

"Understood," the shaman replied stoically. He inched ever closer, and placed his magically wreathed hand upon Cynthia's pregnant belly.

Marcus continued to avert his eyes from the painful presence of the silver dirk, but wanted intently and with utmost anticipation.

Cynthia's groaning gradually ceased, and she opened her eyes fully for the first time. "Who are you? What are you doing?" She attempted to the shuffle away from the unfamiliar mystic.

"He's here to help," Trisha reassured her, despite continuing to hold the blade precariously against Karus' throat.

Marcus watched in amazement as Karus entered a trance-like state as he remained connected to his wife, and wisps of spirit energy surged from his arm and into her body. A unexpected wind began to rush into the chamber, as if the cavern itself were taking in a breath, which caused the nearby torchlights to flicker. The zephyr eventually calmed, and Karus removed his hand.

Cynthia's breathing eventually stumbled, and she looked up to her sister. "It stopped hurting," she said, awash in relief.

"Thank the gods," Trisha said joyfully as she embraced her tightly. She finally relented with the silvered dagger, and returned it to her sheath. "Thank you," she said softly to Karus.

The metal's fearsome gleam thankfully ceased once it had been stowed, allowing Marcus to see without distraction once again.

Karus nodded politely, and turned his gaze towards Cynthia.

"Is my child safe?" She asked him with a look of genuine concern.

"Yes, your child will be fine."

"Thank you so much," she sighed in relief.

"Your child is amazing," Karus added, awestruck. A coy and eager grin stretched across his face as he spoke. "He or she has a great destiny before them." He turned his smile up to Marcus, and gave him a reassuring nod.

"Travis?" Cynthia started, reaching a hand out and searching her surroundings. Her eyes seemed to still be adjusting to the dim light.

"It's me, Marcus," he answered, not daring to come any closer, for risking the wrath of her justifiably protective sister.

Cynthia strained to sit herself up.

"It can wait, you have to rest," her sister insisted that she stay put, but the alleviation of her pain had made her bolder than before.

"No, I want to speak to him." Cynthia ignored her sister's advice and persisted. "Alone," she added. Her and Trisha's eyes locked for a brief moment, and the two silently challenging one another in wordless battle.

Eventually, Trish relented. "Okay," she said bitterly, taking a split second to cast another pair of hateful eyes upon Marcus. "I'll be outside. Call me if you need me." She walked past Marcus, intentionally shoving his shoulder out of the way. In passing, she whispered, "Give me a reason," reminding him of her lethal weapon.

Usually, Marcus would've teased her with a baited off-hand comment, but those days were long gone. That was how Travis, the man he pretended to me, would've acted towards his sister-in-law. Alas, the facade had been peeled away, and now he was only a stranger to her once more.

Karus followed behind Trisha and left the Marcus and Cynthia alone to converse.

A nerve wracking silence hung over the air like a suffocating shroud. Marcus did not know how to start, and thus, held his tongue.

Eventually, and gratefully, Cynthia sundered the quiet. "How long have you been this...Marcus?" She asked him, attempting to hide her betrayed look.

"Three years now," Marcus spoke shakily at first, as he attempted to find the courage to come clean.

"I see," Cynthia sighed. Her brow would always furrow whenever she was upset. But what was once adorable in Marcus' eyes, now pierced him like a white-hot needle. "Were you ever going to tell me the truth?" She continued.

"I was going to-" Marcus began, but stopped himself mid-sentence. His lies were what propelled them into this life-or-death situation, and he knew that any more half-truths and falsehoods would only further widen the rift between them. If he truly wished to salvage any part of their relationship, he would need to come clean. He had considered it during the early years of the facade, after the adventurous feeling had faded, but feared he would lose her. And thus, he succumbed to his cowardice, and hid from the truth until it inevitably boiled over. "No," he said matter-of-factly.

Cynthia mused over his monosyllabic confession for several agonizingly slow seconds. She then stood upright and faced him. Despite her being almost a head shorter than him, in that moment, he felt like a shrew confronting a hungry lioness.

She raised a hand and struck him across the face in anger. "You bastard," she seethed with contemptuous fury.

"I did what I had to do to survive," he continued to divulge as his cheek reddened.

"And what was I? You plaything?" She hit him again, stronger this time, and on the opposite cheek.

Marcus ignored the stinging sensation on his face, for it was dwarfed by the clenching feeling upon his heart. "I didn't plan on staying, until I met you."

"Don't you dare," Cynthia attempted to stop him mid-confession.

"I fell in love with you," Marcus spoke louder.

"Shut up!" Cynthia shrieked as she barrelled into him with both hands, pushing him backwards. Her beautiful emerald eyes had become filled with tears, which rolled down her freckled cheeks.

Marcus too, felt like crying. The sight of his love, so full of contempt and mistrust for him pained him greatly. Even so, he knew that he deserved her scorn, and would accept it with dignity. "I know what I've done to you is unforgivable," he persisted, provoking her to slam her palms against his chest once again. This time, her blow was weak and ineffective, allowing Marcus to stand his ground. "And you can hate me, for as long as you live. I deserve that," he paused, attempting to maintain his composure. "But let me make this right."

Cynthia collapsed forward into his chest and cried out, "How could you? How could you do this to me if you loved me?" She impotently beat his chest as she leaned against him.

Marcus trudged past her razor sharp words. "I will make this right," he repeated. "I will protect you, and our child."

"And then what?" Cynthia asked. "Go back to the way things were?" She said sarcastically between sobs.

"I-" Marcus did not know how to answer.

"I won't-" She spoke haltingly. "I can't forgive you right now," she strained out through clenched teeth. "And I don't know if I ever can."

"I know, and I'm not asking you to," he replied, filled with regret.

"I loved you too," she added. "But now I don't know who you are anymore." She ran a gentle hand from his collarbone down to his belly. She had done this before many times, but this time her touch was light and unsure. "How much of it was the real you?"

"It was always me," he answered quickly, attempting to salvage what little bond they had left. "I never stopped being me." He hesitantly placed a hand on her round and rosy cheek. Thankfully, she allowed him to touch her, and even pressed his hand closer to her face with her own. He had missed this, but it was not more bittersweet than ever.

Cynthia peeled herself away from him, and took a long, calming breath. "Marcus," she resumed, standing firmly as she wiped away the last of her tears.

Marcus also instinctively straightened up. The past few years of being married to her had trained him to be more attentive, especially when being reprimanded.

"Once the baby comes, I and my sister will leave this place," she said confidently, never once breaking their locked stare.

Marcus understood the unspoken consequences as well, and this caused his already heavy heart to sink even deeper. "Where would you go?"

"Anywhere but here," she shot back. "To the south, perhaps. Where there's less conflict. Somewhere I can properly raise this child." She lovingly rubbed her bulging belly with gentle swirls.

 _I_ , Marcus realized the singular nature of her declaration. "And what about us?" He desperately yearned for an answer.

"You're going to take us away, and keep us safe," Cynthia demanded. "What happens afterwards, I cannot say."

"I see," Marcus sighed in defeat. "If I could request one thing, it would be to leave with you," he admitted, slumping over in shame.

"Maybe some day," she countered. She used a hand to lift up his head by the chin. "But if you truly want to make things right, like you claim, you need to see this through to the end."

"To hell with the Feral Hearts and Crescent's Peak!" Marcus burst out. "I want to see you safe! I want to see our child grow up and live a good life!"

"As do I," Cynthia concurred.

"Then let me come with y-"

"No," she cut him off. Her once distraught demeanor was not replaced with a fire-like look of determination. "Like it or not, these people look to your for guidance. It's your responsibility to lead them." Her words rang true, as always. Marcus could always rely on her to tell him the hard truths he needed to hear, especially whenever his foolhardy nature prevented him from arriving at the conclusion by himself. "Do right by them, as well as us, and maybe, someday, I can forgive you," she concluded.

"I understand," Marcus said solemnly. "Is there anything else I can do for you, my moon?" He felt reluctant to call her by that title, for he feared how she would react.

Instead of answering, she merely moved forward, raised herself up on her toes, and kissed him one last time. "That'll be all, Marcus." She said as their lips parted.


	12. The Feral Hearts

Uriko weakly opened her eyes to dim flickering orange light. Her nose was greeted with the scent of wet wood, stone, and ash, and she could hear the distant pitter-patter of dripping water. Her vision eventually cleared, and she beheld several dark figures looming over her. The campfire behind them cast their massive and jagged shadows chaotically onto the stone ceiling. They chanted in unison with a mysterious language as they held their hands firmly against her body. Uriko attempted to shake them off, but she could barely move her arms; they had become numb, as if she had slept on them all night.

"She's awake," a feminine, elderly voice murmured from under one of the hoods.

"Let Zanzibar know," another chimed in, motioning to someone out of Uriko's limited field of vision. The command was followed by the sound of dulled, echoing steps fading into the distance.

 _Where am I?_ Uriko thought, surprised to wake up at all, let alone in such an unfamiliar place and surrounded by so many mysterious strangers. She urged her body to rise, but a sudden sharp pain wracked her back and ribs, instead only allowing her to weakly flail on her back. She could feel the pain of a massive bruise running down her back as she rolled to one side. Her throbbing headache returned, and she groaned in pain.

"Don't move," another withered voice firmly instructed her.

The hands surrounding Uriko's body gradually grew warmer. They were casting some unknown spell. Whether the spell was aiding her or harming her, Uriko could not discern.

"Am I dead?" Uriko blurted out deliriously as her vision continued to spin.

 _Far from it_ , a different, but uncannily familiar voice answered from the aether. Uriko struggled to recall where she had heard that voice before.

 _Who are you?_ Uriko questioned the darkness. There was an ache all across her battered body, and no amount of shifting would give her relief. Her throat was scratchy and dry, and she could taste blood whenever she managed to swallow.

 _I am the one they call Zanzibar_ , the voice responded, carried on the chilly winds.

 _I remember that name_ , Uriko replied. _They say that you're evil._

 _Of course they would_ , Zanzibar laughed condescendingly. _They are wise to fear me. For I plan to show them immeasurable horrors. But unlike those hypocrites of the pretentiously named New Moon Knights, I make no illusions to my true nature_.

"What do you want from me?" Uriko weakly uttered between shallow breaths. Her sore joints began to regain their flexibility as the warmth of the unknown spells gradually spilled into her body and across her extremities.

 _I simply want to help you, Uriko_ , the voice replied. _Tell me, what do you want more than anything_?

Uriko contemplated in silence for a moment as her senses, once dulled by pain, slowly returned to her. "I want to kill Adamance, the man who slaughtered my people," she strained out through anger-clenched teeth. Even with her waking eyes, Uriko could still see his cerulean eyes. They were taunting her. She remembered how she was powerless to hurt him, and it filled her heart with bitterness. _But I can't. I wasn't strong enough._ Overwhelmed by helplessness, tears began to well up in the corner of her eyes again.

A single calloused hand gently grasped Uriko's shoulder. Uriko heard the same enigmatic voice once again, but this time it was coming from the person looming above her. Uriko's eyes met with amber wolf eyes hovering within darkness. "You will, soon. I promise you that," Zanzibar assured, staring down at her. "Rest for now."

Although the cumulative healing magic of the others had removed most of her pain, Uriko's body was still wracked with physical and mental fatigue. She heeded Zanzibar's order and succumbed to the darkness once more.

When Uriko awoke a second time in this unfamiliar location, she had been moved to an entirely different place. She was laying on a coarse and bumpy bedroll composed of dried leaves woven together, and she could feel the remnant warmth of a fire that had been left smoldering beside her. The walls of her chamber were composed of carved grey rock which were slick with light condensation. Uriko stumbled to her feet, this time feeling rejuvenated. _How long have I-?_ She had no sense of how much time had passed since the ordeal, but the sudden recollection of recent events filled her with bone-chilling dread. _The others!_ She quickly found the satchel containing her equipment and slung it over her shoulder as she hastily rushed towards the sole exit.

Uriko ran straight into a thick immovable wall of black matted fur. There were several lycanthropes in hybrid form standing before her in formation, funneling her towards an unknown direction deeper into the caves. She could see the bright light of the midday sun breaking through from the distant entrance, which was blocked by several more tribal folk. They all had a vicious look about them; they wore primitive attire fashioned from feathers, stones, and various skeletal remains, and many of them had modified their own bodies with garish tattoos and grotesque piercings. They had the chiseled and hardened torsos of humans, but the heads of fearsome wolves. The wererats she had encountered early that week were downright pathetic compared to these new and formidable creatures. They watched her every step, but did not appear outrightly hostile. Although some growled lowly as she made eye contact, none of them directly addressed her.

Uriko yearned to return to her companions and escape this perilous situation into which she had faltered. Surrounded at every turn by unfriendly and observant strangers, Uriko knew that she would be unable to escape, even if she tried. So she took the only path made available to her, and began walking deeper into the caverns.

The air became closer and hotter as Uriko approached her unknown destination. The fading light of the outside world was soon replaced with torchlights strategically placed in regular intervals on the walls. She could see carvings of unknown dialects etched deeply into the walls of the caves; they depicted epic battles between werebeasts and humans, and were painted in vivid detail across the stone. Eventually the crowd thinned out, and Uriko finally arrived at a circular stone door flanked by two sentries holding flint-tipped spears.

"You wanted me here? Well, here I am." Uriko declared, attempting to conceal her uncertainty and fear.

The two looming figures wordlessly parted from her path as the circular slab simultaneously started to open. The door eventually rolled to a grinding stop and Uriko timidly crossed the threshold into the inner sanctum.

This chamber was considerably larger and tapered upwards like the inside of a steeple. There was an opening at the ceiling which allowed the sun to beam down and fill the room. In the center of the room there were wide stone steps that led towards a large altar. Behind the altar there was an imposing throne crafted from countless bones, which seated a single figure clad in a white wolf's pelt. To the individual's left side there was the same direwolf from before, a large and fearsome black beast with blue streaks across the fur. And lastly, behind the throne there was a massive post and lintel comprised of polished black rock inscribed with druidic runes.

"Come closer, Uriko. I mean you no harm," the figure addressed Uriko with an outstretched hand. The other hand grasped a longspear with a purple jewel on the opposing end.

Uriko hesitantly climbed the stone steps and approached the enigmatic character. "Are you Zanzibar?"

"In the flesh," Zanzibar replied as she coyly cracked a smile beneath the upper jaw of the wolf's pelt draped over her body. She used her free hand to raise the hood obscuring her face.

Zanzibar had purple eyes that shone like amethyst, and and there were red facial paintings around both of her eyes that streaked down her cheeks like crimson daggers. Atop her head she had hair as black as night that reached down to her shoulders. She had fine tanned skin and a thin yet muscular build. She had a prominent overbite that accentuated her sharpened teeth. As Uriko approached the tribal leader it felt like the warmth was being stolen from her body.

"I've been waiting for someone with your talents, Uriko," Zanzibar continued.

"How do you know who I am?" Uriko retorted.

"I have eyes and ears everywhere in this forest," Zanzibar explained. The purple jewel at the end of her staff glowed and her own eyes lit up in response, followed by the direwolf's eyes. Uriko could sense the faint trace of some unknown magic linking their senses together, forming some semblance of a hive consciousness. "I know about your people, as well, and how they were slaughtered by the Broken Sword."

Uriko's body tensed as the mention of her mortal enemy. Those damned blue eyes appeared in her mental vision once more, and her heart overflowed with spite. "How-?"

"Adamance and Pardue were quick to circulate the news of their destruction," Zanzibar spoke as he stood up and took a few slow methodical steps towards Uriko.

"So, he did know," Uriko uttered bitterly. She had trusted the holy man, and it only brought her pain and betrayal. She clenched her fists, causing her entire body to tremble.

"Of course. Pardue willed it, after all."

"Why?" Uriko could still remember all of their faces, forever twisted in agony, and struggled to find any rational justification for such carnage. "What did that prove?! All of my-" She halted herself, the grief almost overtaking her entirely. She held onto her composure as best she could in her silence.

"To demonstrate their power. They needed a symbol of strength to rally the sheep of Crescent's Peak," Zanzibar explained further.

"Unforgivable," Uriko strained out through her clenched teeth.

"You want your vengeance? I can help you with that," Zanzibar offered.

"How?" Uriko shot back in frustration. "He was too powerful. Even with my magic I couldn't even scratch him!" In her head, she replayed the memory of fighting him, and could not think of how things could've been different.

"I can give you the power to kill Adamance, so that I can destroy the one who let him off his leash." Zanzibar spun her staff once, pointing the spearhead towards the ground and holding aloft the purple jewel on the opposite end. The gnarled brown wood of the staff formed a net that kept the shimmering stone in place as it swirled with magical essence. "You won't have much time to choose, I'm afraid."

Uriko peered into the magical staff and beheld a quick flash of a distant vision. She could see a large garrison of heavily armed New Moon Knights cutting through the forest with alarming speed. At the head there was Adamance, leading the charge. The vision's point of view immediately shifted to a different location, farther ahead, and showed Marcus' hidden cove. Uriko watched helplessly as her party members, along with Marcus and his ragtag cohorts, were discussing strategies and preparing for an oncoming attack. They did not know that they had been discovered. A full militia was about to descend upon them.

The vision finally faded and Uriko gasped in despair. "I led him right to the others!" Uriko's heart sank at the realization of her mistake. "I have to go back there, now!" She turned around to leave.

"And then what? Fight Adamance again? You will die, just as if I never saved you last night." Zanzibar's cutting words stopped Uriko in her tracks.

"If you have an offer, make it," Uriko demanded boldly. "Or stop wasting my time."

"Feisty. I like that." Zanzibar seemed amused by her. "Very well, young Uriko," she started. "Throughout my journeys, I stumbled upon a remarkable power." The jewel at the end of her longspear glowed once more, bathing Uriko's body with an eerie lavender glow. "Partake in this essence, and you will become more powerful than you could've have ever imagined." She planted her glowing longspear deep into the earth using the sharpened end, and pulled out an obsidian dagger. Without explanation, she placed it on her own flesh, and etched a long red gash across her palm. Her face did not even twitch as she performed the deed.

"What are you doing?!" Uriko gasped, appalled.

Blood began to pour freely from the wound. But as it started to spill over Zanzibar's hand and into the open air, instead it started to vaporize into flowing wisps of black smoke.

"Dark magic?" Uriko was repulsed and wanted to avert her gaze. Her native people, as well as the kindly elves who had raised her, explicitly taught her to avoid the dark arts. _They will corrupt you. Tear your soul apart. Once you give in, you will crave their power._ But despite their warnings, Uriko was compelled to reach towards the miasma of dark energy, as if she were falling deeper in a precipitate laid before her.

"Pledge yourself to me, and together we can beckon their doom," Zanzibar said with a sinister smile, her arm outstretched as her palm bled tendrils of dark energy.

Uriko hesitated for a moment. Accepting the aid of a black magic would be a betrayal of everything she had been taught, but in the face of overwhelming odds, and the presence of the man who killed everyone she had ever loved, she had no other choice. Uriko hardened her heart, and raised her own hand, palm up. "I am yours to command," she uttered.

"Don't worry," Zanzibar said softly. "This will hurt very much."

Before Uriko could react to her ominous words, Zanzibar slashed Uriko across the palm with the obsidian razor, drawing blood. Uriko gasped in pain and started to flinch away.

Zanzibar shot forward and grasped Uriko's fleeing hand, securing it firmly. The sting of the open wound flared up as it made contact with the shaman's dry and coarse skin.

The whirling mass of dark smoke suddenly forced it way into Uriko's hand. She watched in horror as the veins across her limb suddenly turned black as the corruption seeped into her body. A freezing sensation rushed up Uriko's arm and into her body, forcing the breath from her lungs. She dropped to her knees as Zanzibar held fast, preventing the two from becoming separated. Uriko's heart began to beat rapidly to the point where she could hear the rhythmic thumping and feel each convulsive pump across her entire frame. She wanted to pull away, but it was too late to turn back now.

"Embrace the animal. Unleash your feral heart," Zanzibar said soothingly. Zanzibar finally released Uriko from her grasp, and Uriko caught herself on the cold hard ground with both hands.

Uriko's vision began to dim as she struggled to maintain her consciousness and slow her breaths. Her breathing slowly became more guttural as she remained keeled over in agonizing pain which spread across her entire body. Uriko dug her claws deep into the earth to brace herself and withstand the torment. With each passing second, she could feel the dark energy morphing her mind and body, turning her into something other.

"Now the true hunt begins," Zanzibar declared, her voice brimming with excitement. She reared her head back to the sky and howled once, which echoed across the bowels of the caves. And in response, Uriko beheld a symphony of howling and gnashing teeth.


	13. Judgement

Grelos immediately awoke from his boredom and wine induced nap when his nostrils picked up an all-too-familiar scent. _Blood._ _That's not good._ He sprung to a sitting position and quickly scanned the surrounding environment. He way resting beside a smoldering fire that no one had bothered to keep burning, and Abner was loudly eating an apple beside him.

"Want some?" The rogue spoke with a mouth full of mashed-up pulp, and pushed a slice at the end of his dagger into Grelos' reach.

Grelos declined his offer and continued to search for the source of the alarming smell. There were several other members of Marcus' clan meandering about in the immediate vicinity, and none of them appeared to be injured. It was early evening, judging by waning orange light emanating at the edge of the cavern's mouth.

"Something's wrong," Grelos announced aloud to his aloof companion.

Abner finished off the last bit of fruit and cleaned the blade before returning it to its sheath. "Why? What do you sense?"

"There's blood in the air," Grelos breathed deeply as the downwind current brought the scent of distant battle closer to him. "Where's Chrovan?"

The rogue scratched his head, trying to recollect. The two did not get along well, so it made sense that they stayed apart from one another. Eventually, the half-elf fathomed a reasonable guess. "I think he went out with the evening patrol."

Perturbed, Grelos walked quickly back towards the cave, and Abner swiftly followed out of sheer curiosity. They quickly snaked across the treeline and returned to the clearing at the mouth of the central cavern. "Marcus!" Grelos called out to no answer.

"What's this?" Abner knelt to the ground near the opening, and inspected a seemingly inconspicuous patch of dirt. It turned out that they were drag marks, and they stretched from far down the road, and led deeper into the caves.

Grelos tensed when he noticed the flecks of blood that peppering the tracks.

Abner abruptly dashed into the tunnel.

 _Maybe Uriko's back?_ Grelos pondered, growing concerned. _I hope she's not hurt._ He arrived at the edge of a distraught crowd. Pathe the forest of swaying legs and tattered clothing there was a humanoid figure laying on the floor.

Abner pushed past the crowd in order to checked on the body. Grelos noticed that he took a liking to the cat-girl, and that the rogue was very bad at hiding it. Abner eventually forced his way into the center of the commotion, and knelt beside the body.

Grelos pushed his way past the crowd, and spotted a grim-faced Marcus as well. Abner had a look of pained disappointment on his face at he slinked away. "It's not her," he said softly in passing, having lost interest in the proceedings.

Grelos moved past the disillusioned thief and saw a bloodied young man with olive colored skin lying on a straw bedroll. Karus was kneeling beside him and chanting some strange mystical incantation as a ominous white smoke billowed around him. Beside the occupied shaman, the materialized spirit Kaiba stood vigil. The youth was barely a man, but his body was covered with grievous cuts and bruises, as if he had been savagely attacked.

"Who did this?" Marcus asked the others. He had only recently been made away for it as well, it seemed.

"We found him like this an hour ago. He was wandering past the perimeter," one of Marcus' clansmen explained.

"Was he followed?" Marcus asked them.

"We didn't see any others with him, but he said that there at least twenty fighters, all heavily armed."

"I'm sorry, how many!?" Abner let out in exasperation at the edge of the crowd. "Wasn't there supposed to be only three?!"

Grelos was not naive, and knew full well what they truly meant. Others would be coming soon, and a full-scale battle was inevitable now. But they had come much sooner than anticipated, which made his heart race with anticipation.

"I'm so sorry, chief!" The young werewolf flailed and feebly grabbed Marcus by the boot. He attempted to speak, but blood filled up his mouth and choked off his subsequent words.

Marcus knelt below to the young man, comforting him. "Shh, don't talk, Dar."

"I told them everything," the boy weakly strained out through blood-streaked teeth. His entire body began to tremble. "They made me tell them." Tears rolled down the side of his check, mixing in with the crimson.

"You're going to be alright." Marcus did not begrudge the lad; very few could've held their tongues under such vicious coercion, especially one so young and inexperienced. Marcus looked intensely back towards Karus, who was still casting his healing magic.

The ethereal smoke swirled in the air and flew into the boy's weakened and blood-soaked frame. The entire group awaited for an noticeable improvement in his condition, but nothing happened. "It's not working," Karus muttered under his breath as sweat rolled down the sides of his fur-covered face.

Kaiba ran his snout up and down the lad's shaking frame. "There's still silver in his body," the wolf informed his companion. "As long as it remains inside him, his regeneration won't work."

The youth gasped deeply and began choking and convulsing. There were streaks of black veins appearing all across his body, moving up from his neck and across the bottom of his face.

 _Liquid silver_ , Grelos realized. _There's no way we'll get it out of him in time._ He continued to stand almost motionless, unable to help.

"I'm sorry," the youth repeatedly strained out between violent coughs. Blood began to well up at the corner of his eyes, as well as out his nose.

"It's okay," Marcus lied, wiping blood away from the boy's rapidly paling face.

"I-I-" Death took him before he could complete his last words. The light left his eyes, leaving them wide open but unresponsive, and he ceased to stir.

Marcus solemnly closed the boy's eyes and laid him down. He whispered a short incantation in an unrecognized language and pulled a blanket over the dead child, covering him from sight.

Karus slammed a clenched fist at wall behind him and let out a frustrated grunt. He grasped the sides of his head and pulled at his hair, looking defeated.

There was a lasting quiet as the tribe silently mourned for the loss of another member. Grelos tightened both fists at his sides, digging his clawed fingers into his scaly palms as his both trembled with mounting rage.

Abner fidgeted nervously while chewing a thumbnail between his front teeth, silently contemplating his next course of action. Grelos suspected that the rogue would consider running again, given the dire circumstances.

When their eyes met once more, Grelos realized what Abner was attempting to hide. It was not cowardice, but bloodlust. The thief appeared to also be itching for a good fight, especially after the cruelty he had just witnessed.

 _Anger is good,_ Grelos thought. _You're gonna need it soon._

"They're coming! New Moons are coming!" Some of the crowd shrieked in terror. "What do we do now?" The others looked to Marcus for guidance, but Grelos knew that Marcus' mind was in disarray; he stared off into the distance, not responding to their terrified pleads.

Grelos took initiative and spoke on Marcus' behalf. "Prepare for battle!" He ushered a command at the able-bodied men and women.

Unfamiliar with their newfound impromptu draconic commander, they instead exchanged confused, unsure looks with one another.

"Move, now!" Grelos roared forcefully, his words echoing like a thunderclap.

"Yes, sir!" They hesitantly replied, and rushed out of the cave towards the mouth, to set up their defensive battle formations. Abner and Karus gathered their weapons and ran after them, to aid in the upcoming confrontation.

Grelos returned his attention to the weak, young, and elderly. "Barricade and hide yourselves the best you can." Finally, he returned to the stunned and silent Marcus, who was drifting away deeper into the caverns, to the chamber in which Cynthia and Trisha were residing. Grelos broke Marcus from his stupor with a sharp grab. He pulled Marcus close, and stared deep into his eyes. "Your pack needs you now, more than ever."

"But my wife, she-" Marcus stammered.

"They will be fine," Grelos dismissed his emerging weakness. "You have to be strong, and lead these people."

Marcus looked down towards the inner chamber and clenched his jaw, clearly torn between his want to see his wife again. He took a steady breath and the determination returned to his eyes. "Okay," Marcus said firmly as he retrieved his longsword and warhammer.

Grelos and Marcus quickly marched out of the cave and towards the fading light. They ran past several frightened folk whom were rapidly packing up their belongings and extinguishing torches to increase their chances of hiding.

Grelos could hear a faint trumpeting sound somewhere in the distance, beyond the light at the end of the tunnel. As he and Marcus emerged from the cave and into the twilight of the forest, he could see Chrovan in the distance, sounding off with a warhorn with one hand as he dragged a body behind him. Chrovan's kite shield, which was slung on his back, was impaled with four arrows.

Grelos broke into a sprint and rushed forward to aid his comrade, but he was still at least a hundred paces away. _Got started on the fun without me, Cro? Typical._

Chrovan ceased blowing his warhorn, quickly equipped his shield, and held it to left side. Three more arrows spring from the nearby foliage. Once sailed passed him and missed entirely, the second bounced off the metal carapace and splintered off in multiple directions, and the third stuck into the shield. Chrovan continued to pull the injured man behind him, despite being under attack.

Grelos looked to Chrovan's side, attempting to find the bowman who was attacking them, but to no avail. He finally reached Chrovan's side and began helping him drag the injured fellow back to the safer zone. Out of the corner of his eye, Grelos saw a large hulking humanoid creature emerging from the brush. The flat of the stranger's massive double-sided axe caught the moonlight and gleamed as it sailed towards Chrovan's left flank. "Look out!" All Grelos could do was blurt out a quick warning.

Chrovan reacted quickly and raised his shield, narrowly blocking the strike. However, he was unable to properly deflect it, and the immense concussive force of the blow bent the shield inward, permanently warping the metal and shattering the wooden sticks that were poking out of it. Chrovan was lifted off his feet and thrown sideways into the dirt, releasing the injured man.

The hulking axe-man used his tremendous brute strength to loop his axe around and bring it towards the ground, slicing the hapless injured tribesman in twain.

Grelos released the now-limp upper half of his ward and charged forward, bringing his sword down in anger. His blade met with the upper crest of the waraxe and became wedged in the groove between the opposing heads.

Up close, the executioner was a fearsome and gruesome foe. Along with being at least seven feet tall, which towered over Grelos, he was a grotesquely fat man with scars all over his milky pale body. The large black hood that covered his head, only revealed two bloodshot eyes and a gaping slobbering mouth filled with several half-decayed brown teeth. His bloodied apron smelled of rotted meat. He continued to struggle with Grelos, causing the veins on his arms to pulsate under his skin like writhing snakes.

Unexpectedly, the brute executioner reached out with a single hand and seized Grelos by the throat, stunning him. To Grelos' shock and surprise, this creature was strong enough to wield his two-handed greataxe with a single arm. The executioner then proceeded to lift Grelos off of the ground, and threw him backwards several feet.

Grelos slammed back-first into the coarse trunk of a nearby tree, causing his vision to black out momentarily. As his sight returned in dulled flashes, Grelos watched as Chrovan painfully and sluggishly crawled in the dirt and dragged himself to his feet, and noticed that Chrovan's left arm was now limp and weakly grasping the mangled shield at his side. There was a deep and long line etched into the shield were the axe had penetrated, and some blood was now running down Chrovan's shield arm and dripping into the dirt. Although Chrovan had avoided the full brunt of the potentially lethal attack, it was apparent that he did not emerge unscathed.

The berserker gave no quarter and barrelled towards Grelos, swinging his axe wildly.

Grelos ignored the throbbing pain in his head and back and raised his sword again, prepared to intercept the charging madman.

Without warning, a torrential stream of water flew in from the corner of Grelos' periphery, shaped like a massive serpent of liquid, and crashed into the executioner's side, knocking him several feet backwards and stunning him. The water splashed from the impact and droplets of clear water fell onto Grelos and Chrovan's body, filling him with an unexpected warmth. The bleeding on Chrovan's arm ceased, and he was now gripping the shield much more securely now. Grelos turned to the other side and saw that Karus was in a forward leaning stance and holding his staff towards the executioner, as if he had just completed casting a spell. Kaiba was standing beside him, his face twisted in a ferocious sneer and his body glowing with brilliant white light.

"Fall back, now!" Chrovan commanded, raising his shield again as he begun moving towards Karus' position. Another series of bolts and bows flew past him, narrowly missing him and bouncing off his raised shield.

Grelos followed suit, dodging some crossbow bolts as he rushed to somewhere with better cover. He peered into the forest once more, to get a better look at their attackers, but the encroaching nightfall had rendered his vision beyond the immediate vicinity almost useless. Despite his failing eyesight, he noticed that more mist was descending upon the site. The fog had begun to thicken again, for some mysterious reason. He successfully regrouped with the other two, and took a short moment to assess how the remaining troops were faring. Marcus had charged into the forest and was fighting with a pair of armed soldiers with halberds, and holding his own fairly well. Behind him, in his path, there were three other unconscious defeated werewolf hunters who slept in the dirt. Some of the allied werewolves were laying flush against nearby trees for cover, occasionally poking out to retaliate with arrows of their own. A New Moon Knight was attempting to restring his two-handed crossbow and was interrupted by two werewolves tackling the slayer into the dirt. Another black knight swung his silvered blade, severing a werewolf's arm cleanly. Some of the traps in the distance had been set off, and he could see the trapped humans struggling inside their netted cages.

The executioner loudly and clumsily flopped around in the mud before finally lumbering back to his feet and retrieving his greataxe. His gaze centered upon Karus, who was now between Grelos and Chrovan. "Kill! Crush! Make wolf man bleed!" The execution brayed on unintelligently and shook wildly, throwing dirty water droplets everywhere.

"Try it," Karus goaded him.

Kaiba stood confidently beside the shaman and growled loudly.

The axeman stormed forward, shrieking wildly and clutching his greasy hands tightly upon the wooden haft of his gnarled weapon.

Grelos spoke the draconic words and made the hand signs for casting his aegis, and waited for his opponent to enter his range.

Chrovan had his mace readied, and was prepared to move to the side and attack executioner's flank.

Karus grasped his staff with both hands and braced himself as Kaiba bared his fangs.

When the executioner was within three paces of them, Grelos let out a burst of arcane energy directed towards the encroaching attacker, marking him with a magical beacon. Grelos then dodged to the side, attempting to clear some distance.

Chrovan bolted in the opposite direction and backwards, positioning himself behind Karus.

The executioner maintained his course and finally arrived at Karus, and swung downwards toward the doomed shaman.

 _Not on my watch._ With the conditions of the spell met, Grelos invoked the magical aegis he had placed upon the executioner. Grelos magically teleported through space in an instant, appearing behind the executioner. Without hesitation. Grelos cut into his blubbery flesh with a hard swing of his greatblade.

The metal easily parted skin, fat, and muscle in a long red line across the giant's back, interrupting his attack with a grievous wound. Blood gushed from the wound like a geyser of red, and his swing became lazy and half-hearted as he let out a pained screech.

Within a split second, Karus rolled to one side and narrowly dodged the weakened attack. The man's reckless charge and consequential momentum carried him past their original position entirely, right towards Chrovan, who was in a readied stance.

Chrovan swung the mace in a wide arc and it contacted directly with the executioner's face, resulting in a meaty crunch and spray of blood and teeth.

The executioner spun around once and stumbled forward a few more steps before he collapsed face-first into the dirt.

Chrovan let out a snicker. "Well that was easy," he remarked, almost sounding disappointed.

Grelos looked around again, further assessing the state of the battle. The mysterious fogs had entirely engulfed the surrounding territory, and had begun spilling over the path as well. All he could hear were the sounds of distant fighting and struggling. Whether they were winning or losing, he could not discern.

"Who's that?" Karus asked, peering further down the path.

A quartet of humanoid figures was approaching them. Grelos could see their outlines, but no defining features. They finally breached the edge of the fog and were standing before them. Four New Moon Knights stood before them, silvered greatswords drawn and stained with blood. The one leading them wore a black cape with a red lining at the edge. Unlike his compatriots, he wielded a hand-and-a-half blade.

"You must be Adamance," Grelos called him out, not lowering his guard.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," the leader replied with a polite nod.

"Oh, I've been waiting for this," Chrovan said eagerly as he walked towards Adamance and his men.

"Well, you're certainly eager to die," Adamance taunted him. The two appeared to have an undisclosed score that both parties wanted to settle. Adamance lowered his stance and pointed his sword as his subordinates also readied their weapons.

Marcus rushed to regroup with the three, and halted in his tracks when he saw the approaching phalanx of blackened steel. "We don't want to shed any more blood. We only want-"

Adamance cut off his words. "There will be no negotiations," he harshly decreed. "You are already guilty of countless crimes. This is merely a sentencing. And I sentence all of you to fall upon the sword."

"Is this what you want? Endless bloodshed? Innocent lives lost?!" Marcus contested angrily.

"It is the will of God," Adamance said proudly. "Enough talk! Have at you!" He and his men pounced towards them.

Grelos clashed with one of the faceless New Moon Knights, and the two struggled with their locked blades. The metal scraped as his foe attempted to push him backwards. Grelos counterattacked with the forward momentum and slid the locked blades to one side, destabilizing his opponent, following up with a hilt bash to the side of his head. The New Moon Knight stumbled to one side, dazed by the blow. Grelos them seized him by the gorget, forcibly removed his helm, and began slamming his fist into the knight's exposed face until the fellow could no longer stand. Finally, Grelos released the black knight from his grasp, allowing his unconscious body to fall backwards into the foliage below. Grelos swiftly redirected his attention to the other three.

Karus and Kaiba were dueling with a single blackguard and holding their own just fine. The swordsman stabbed forward at the shaman, but he deflected the strike with a twirl of his staff, and his spirit wolf retaliated with multiple snaps of his jowls.

Marcus was beyond the veil of the mist and nowhere to be seen. Grelos could only hope that he was faring well against his opponent.

Grelos turned to Chrovan, whom had squared off against Adamance for a rematch. Chrovan was unleashing the flurry of strikes with his mace, and each attach failed to connect. Despite being clad from head to toe in heavy plate, the knight somehow had lost none of his agility and speed.

Grelos circled around in the brush, doing his best to hide his presence. When we was within spellcasting range of his target, he marked his foe once again with an aegis.

Chrovan continued to spar with Adamance, but for some unknown reason the knight would not counterattack. The usually calm and level-headed warrior had become angered and frustrated with the black knight's antics. In a fit of rage, Chrovan swung his mace harder than usual, overextending his arm and leaving a gaping opening. Adamance seized this opportunity and reared his sword back for a horizontal slash.

Grelos immediately invoked his aegis and transported himself to Adamance's unguarded backside, preemptively attacking with an upward diagonal cut. Much to his surprise, the attack missed the black knight entirely, whom had ducked downwards in anticipation for the magical strike.

Adamance dropped to a low stance and swung his bastard sword in a complete circle around him.

Chrovan managed to drop his cracked shield just in time, and deflected the sword strike.

Grelos, however, was not as lucky. The low sword attack contacted his leg above the thigh, and bit past both his leather armor and his naturally thickened dragonborn hide, cutting his thigh wide open. Searing pain shot up his body, causing his leg to seize up and buckle, and Grelos fell to the side, clutching the wound.

Adamance used the momentum of the swing to complete a full rotation, ending at facing Chrovan once again. Without missing a beat, he send his foot forward into Chrovan's raised shield. In a spectacular display of might, his metal-tipped boot cracked the damaged shield entirely in half, collapsing Chrovan's arm into his body. Chrovan keeled over into the dirt, his broken shield falling into two separated halves on opposite sides.

"Interruptions are very rude," Adamance dismissed Grelos, not even turning to face him.

Grelos maintained pressure on his newly acquired wound, in an attempt to stifle the bleeding, Red liquid poured past his fingers and onto his clothing like water from a ruptured dam.

Karus ducked and shuffled backwards, dodging another sword stroke. He planted his staff hard into the dirt, and his wolf companion materialized out from the fog and launched onto the black night, thrashing and snapping at his exposed neck violently until the knight was defeated. Karus took a moment to catch his breath, and did not notice what was approaching him from behind.

Further beyond the fight, Grelos beheld a disheartening realization. The executioner had not been slain, and had returned to the fray in a fit of berserker fury. Apparently, the executioner's freakishly blubbery and bulky frame prevented the earlier strikes from penetrating deep enough to be immediately lethal.

 _Dammit, all,_ Grelos gritted his teeth as he hobbled onto his one good leg, both arms still occupied with keeping the bleeding from overwhelming him. He removed one hand and wrapped his slippery, blood-crusted fingers around his sword's handle once more.

The executioner bellowed with frustration and kicked Kaiba away, violently disrupting his spirit form. The wolf puffed away in a cloud of white dust.

Karus involuntarily lurched forward and grabbed his chest, letting out a pained wince.

The juggernaut seized the opportunity and lumbered forward, silvered greataxe pulled back and blade parallel to the ground. He closed the distance between them and swung leftwards towards Karus' midsection.

Abner suddenly appeared from out of the shadows and fog and made a mad dash towards the dazed Karus and tackled him, dropping both of them into the dirt. The intimidating axe blade sailed overhead, narrowly missing them both, and sunk itself deep into the soft wood of a nearby tree.

Perplexed, the lumbering monstrosity attempted to free his weapon with his brute strength, and began pulling at it.

Abner rolled over the recovering shaman and rolled back to his feet. He swiftly spun around and loosed a slender dagger at the preoccupied axeman. The blade careened through the air and stabbed the executioner in his left eye, half blinding him.

The berserker screamed pathetically as he fell to one knee, clutching the bloodied side of his face in abject agony.

Adamance calmly approached Chrovan, whom had begun attempting to get back to his feet. He used his mace as a makeshift crutch as he struggled to stand. Chrovan's shoulder appeared to have been knocked out of the alignment by Adamance's strike.

Abner dashed to assist Chrovan as well, barring a freshly drawn pair of daggers held in a reverse grip. He sailed through the air and stabbed downwards at the armored fiend.

Adamance caught Abner mid-flight and threw him several feet to the side, slamming his body awkwardly against a tree. Abner attempted to tumble, but landed hard against the bark and ended up on a contorted heap.

Karus slowly arose from the dirt and approached the distracted executioner with grim determination in his eyes. He supported himself with his staff in one hand, and reached out with his free arm. "Do you hear them?" Karus said ominously. The surrounding fog danced and seemed to form tendrils that began circling around the executioner.

The executioner cried out and feebly swiped at him with one of his large hands, incorrectly judging distance and missing Karus entirely.

"These are the spirits of those whom you have cruelly put to the blade," Karus continued, channeling his spirit magic. "Now you shall feel their pain," the shaman solemnly condemned the kneeling man.

The puffs of ethereal energy began to take a multitude of shapes. Grelos felt an uncommon chill run up the small of his back as he watched them forming demonic faces as they swirled around the executioner's horrified faces. Grelos could hear fell voices carried in the air, intermingled with indistinct screams. They sped up as they whirled around his head, and finally dispersed. The executioner's eyes rolled over, and he crumbled into the dirt, stone dead.

Grelos limped over to Adamance's rear, sword head clumsily aloft in one hand. the sword was unwieldy and heavy with a single hand, but he could not spare another one without risking bleeding out. He felt increasingly sluggish with each passing step as the warmth gradually left his body with each lost drop of blood.

Karus also fell to his knees, clearly expended of energy and drained from the ordeal. He had also reach his limit, and could not assist in the fight any further.

Chrovan charged as Adamance and aimed his mace at the knight's head. Before the killshot could connect, Adamance intercepted him with a gauntleted fist to the midsection, which immediately dropped him. Adamance proceeded to kick the barely conscious Chrovan to his side and placed his steel boot onto Chrovan's throat. He then began to push downward with the metallic heel, choking the life out of him.

Grelos strained to rush to Chrovan's aid. He fumbled with his sword arm, and dropped the blade into the dirt as he supported a majority of his body weight with a nearby tree. His accumulated injuries over the past several days had barely healed since that morning, and his body had become nearly useless from overexertion and fatigue.

Suddenly, an auburn streak burst from the treeline and flew past Adamance's head. He was abruptly knocked off-balance and spun around once before regaining his balance.

Chrovan gasped for air after being freed from the pressure.

Grelos could see that Adamance's blackened helm had been torn by some ungodly sharp claws, which left three parallel deep gashes in the tempered steel.

The orange blur reappeared behind him, catching him off-guard again. This time, Grelos could make out the outline of a slender humanoid creature with catlike ears rushing behind the bewildered black knight and slamming a clawed palm into his face, knocking his helmet off entirely. This exposed his blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and bloodstained cheek. Blood trickled down the side of his face and onto his breastplate as he scanned his environment for the mysterious new assailant.

Adamance swung around, facing the attacker for her third pass, and attempted a head-chop. The feline figure ducked and entered his opening. Adamance reached for her throat, trying to halt her rapid advance. He seemed to have grabbed her, but only for an instant. She snaked a free arm around his outstretched limb, and with a sudden twist, bent the elbow backwards, steel included.

Grelos heard Adamance cry out in pain for the first time. He grunted angrily and barreled into his opponent, pushing her away.

The unknown feral creature darted back into the forest and disappeared once more.

Adamance swept his surroundings with his sword as his broken arm remained in a contorted mess at his side, held securely in place by the mangled steel of his armor.

Grelos noticed that some of the surrounding greenery started rapidly growing, and snake-like vines started reaching for Adamance's feet. They reached out and tried to ensnare his legs, but he shuffled away and cut them down with a single stroke. A second cluster of vines shot out from the mist and wrapped around his sword arm. With brute force, he yanked it away, snapping the stems apart. A third and final thorn-encrusted vine snagged Adamance by the shoulder above his broken arm and yanked him off balance, pulled him across the dirt. He stopped in front of a lone female shifter. Grelos could finally make out who it was, and his jaw dropped when he realized it was Uriko.

Adamance, unwilling to give up, brought his sword up once more. Uriko caught the his arm, disarmed him with a single circular motion, and with both hands fastened around the crossguard, plunged the blade tip deep into Adamance's breastplate. The sword pierced through the steel armor and poked out the other side, causing blood to rush out the wound. Adamance let out a rasping gasp, as if he couldn't believe what had just happened to him.

The vines around him began to move again, and were controlled by Uriko's druidic magic through her minute finger motions. The moved up his trembling, kneeled-over frame, securing his body in place.

"Any last words?" Uriko asked, as the vines fully secured his throat.

"Justice always prevails in the end," Adamance wheezed out, as he kneeled helpless before the fearsome druid.

"Yes, it does," Uriko agreed, and made a fist.

The vines rapidly constricted, suddenly and viciously snapping Adamance's head around in a half-circle, until he was facing back towards Grelos, despite his body still facing Uriko's. the whole body jerked violently and a muffled crackling echoed out throughout the now silent woods.

Grelos watched in horror as the black knight's blue eyes glazed over and saw no more.

Uriko took a deep and shaky breath as she stared at her slain foe.

Grelos could not muster any words, and remained silent.

Karus regained his composure and approached Uriko. "Uriko? Thank the Great Earth Serpent you're okay!"

Uriko turned to him and gave him a gentle smile and nod. "I'm okay. I'm sorry for making you worry."

"You're okay! Thanks goodness!" Abner limped over to her. He jumped in fright when his eyes met with the mangled carcass of her fallen enemy. "What in the nine hells happened to him?!" He asked, aghast.

Uriko ignored him and rushed to Chrovan and Grelos, running past the slain and still kneeling corpse of the black knight.

Karus inspected Chrovan first. "Cracked rib, dislocated shoulder," he started listing off the injuries he could find. When he was finished, he let out a sigh of relief. "He'll be fine, for now. I can further patch him up once I recover my spells."

Abner lifted the partially conscious Chrovan to his feet and slung him over his shoulder, assisting him with walking.

Grelos took the time to retrieve some gauze and applied a quick field dressing to his wound. Thankfully, the wound had begun to partially clot, so the bleeding was not as intense anymore. He wrapped the cloth several times around the wound and tightened it, wincing in pain.

"Here, let me help." Karus moved to Grelos' side and started inspecting his wounds as well.

"No, I'll be fine," Grelos batted his fur-covered hands away. His eyes locked with Uriko's and he addressed her firmly and directly. "What's going on here, Uriko?"

The forest, once awash with the sounds of battle, had returned to an unnerving silence.

Marcus regrouped with them as well, and stopped in shock at the sight of the mutilated Adamance. "What the-? How did you-?" He was appalled by the sight of it, and could not bare to look upon it any further.

"I've taken my vengeance," Uriko proudly declared. "for a family that was wrongfully taken from me." She wiped some dried blood from her claws.

Grelos focused upon her, and channeled his arcane knowledge in an attempt to affirm his suspicion. Much to his horror, he could sense something other swirling within her. This dark aura was feeding her, and had allowed her to perform incredible feats of strength, agility, and magic. She had grown so much more powerful within a single day than she could have through conventional study and training. "What have you done to yourself?" He inquired.

"I did what was necessary," she shot back, unashamed. Her eyes lit up as she spoke, as if brimming with demonic malice.

"And now that you have exacted your vengeance, it's time for my part of the bargain," an unrecognizable voice called out from the fog.

"Who's that?" Karus questioned.

"No," Marcus uttered in horror. He seized Uriko by the arm. "What have you done?"

"Don't touch me!" Uriko hissed and lashed out, clawing Marcus across the face.

Marcus recoiled in pain and stared down at her with condemning eyes. "You led Zanzibar to our coven?!" The bleeding scratch marks quickly healed up as a result of his lycanthrope healing factor.

"What does it matter?" Uriko shook off her sudden outburst, as if she were unable to control herself. "If I hadn't brought reinforcements you all would be dead."

"You don't understand, Zanzibar doesn't negotiate," he whispered to her.

"Yes, the abomination," Zanzibar spoke as she finally emerged out into plain sight. Grelos could see a female human wearing a white wolf's pelt stained with blood. Her face was hidden by a blue carved wooden mask with that resembled a wolf with white bared fangs. She sat astride a mighty direwolf with blue stripes.

Grelos spun around, and saw several eyes surrounding them. Several of them were shifted into hybrid wolf form, piercing the night with their yellow slit eyes. He could see some of Marcus' pack among them, most of whom were being restrained in some manner.

"I'm sorry, chief, we-" One of Marcus' kin started to speak out, but was harshed with a violent slap to the back of the head.

"I'm willing to spare you and your pack, Marcus," Zanzibar elaborated. "You will not get a deal this merciful again."

"And what of my wife and child?" Marcus asked apprehensively.

"I want the child dead, of course," Zanzibar decreed, pointing her blood-drenched longspear. "That creature is an abomination; a taint upon our bloodline."

Marcus' face became pale.

Uriko became distraught. "What?" She addressed Zanzibar, appalled. "That wasn't part of the deal." She reasoned.

"Silence!" Zanzibar hushed her with a wave of her staff. "You speak only when spoken to."

Uriko suddenly dropped to her knees, clutching her belly, as if she were wracked with pain of unknown origin. Karus rushed to her side, in an attempt to help her.

"We're surrounded," Abner whispered to Grelos as he discreetly palmed Grelos a knife.

"I know," Grelos replied, unable to devise a clever solution to their current predicament.

"That child is also a member of my pack," Marcus argued back haltingly. "You said you'd spare them!"

"It is a symbol of a forbidden fraternization with the sworn enemy," Zanzibar retorted. "It dies tonight. Along with the rest of you and your deserters, if you refuse my offer."

"Was this your plan all along?" Uriko seethed. She shakily stood back up and faced her. "You never wanted justice. You just needed someone to do your dirty work."

"You will serve too, Uriko. Or die with the others," Zanzibar warned.

Grelos could see Marcus slowly reaching for a knife he had sheathed behind his back. "You can't have them," Marcus declared firmly. "That child is a symbol of hope. That we can, and have, lived together. You just chose to forget, all for the purpose of your false narrative."

Zanzibar let out a defeated sigh. "It's a damn shame, brother." She gestured to her people. "Kill them." She turned her lupine beast around and nonchalantly rode away.

The surrounding werewolves drew bows, nocked their flint-tipped arrows, and drew the strings back.

Uriko let out a yelp of pain, and her obscuring mist suddenly thickened and engulfed the area in wisps of opaque white cloud.

Grelos could hear the sounds of arrows being launched from their wooden seats, and countless arrows whizzed past him, each one coming closer to impaling him than the next. Within the nearly impenetrable fog, he could only see Marcus, who was within arm's reach of him.

"I have to get back to them!" Marcus spoke, frightened. "I can't leave them here!"

Grelos gave him a reassuring nod. "Let's go!" He could no longer see the others, and could only hope that they seized the opportunity to flee. If they survived, he could regroup with them later.

Grelos and Marcus simultaneously dove down, keeping their heads low, and proceeded to scramble back towards the caverns, where Cynthia and his unborn child would be.

Marcus roared in pain as he took two arrows to the back and stumbled to one knee.

Grelos caught him before he fell entirely, and assisted him as they ran.

A wall of black fur intercepted their advance and swung a stone club at them.

Grelos counterattacked with an upwards stab to the bottom of the jaw, which drove the blade all the way upwards into the brain, killing him outright before his regeneration powers could be of any use. Grelos did not bother to retrieve the dagger, and left it on the dead body as the two pushed onward.

Both of them eventually arrived at the cavern's entrance and started making their way into the inner chambers.

Grelos' sensitive nostrils picked up another familiar scent. _Black powder._

Before them, standing in obstruction, there was one last remaining New Moon Knight holding a single torch in one hand and strange black ellissoide in the other. The knight began to cackle maniacally as he waddled towards them. Grelos could see that he was covered with bite and claw marks all over his body, covering his flesh in a coating of blood. "I won't become one of those creatures," he cackled. "I will not become a monster!" The strange object in his hand had a shiny, almost porcelain-like exterior, and there was a wick extending from one end. He pressed the torch's flame against the wick, and it began to sparkle brightly.

Grelos reacted without warning, and tackled Marcus to the side, draping his own body over his ally's.

The explosive charge detonated, shredding the soldier and strewing his viscera, blood, and possessions all across the inner sanctum. A cloud of white hot flame erupted outwards and scorched the surrounding stone as the explosion shook the entire cavern, destabilizing the cave.

Grelos felt the ground beneath them seemingly split open, and he and Marcus tumbled into a black void.


	14. Unforeseen Consequences

"Keep your head down!" Karus instructed Uriko as he grabbed her arm and pulled her along the way. Kaiba following suit on his right, guarding his flank. Several stray branches lightly pelted the shaman's body as they rushed through the fog and surrounding brush, uncertain as to where they were going.

All around them, the air was filled with zipping sounds of raining arrows. Thankfully, Uriko's impromptu cover made proper aim impossible, so their shots were haphazard and off-target.

Karus took a moment to focus what little magical reserves he had left, and attempted to reach out to the spirit world once more. _I need your guidance now, more than ever_. He strained to concentrate amidst the chaos closing in on him. He could feel the faintest breeze blowing past him, as if gently pushing him to towards the left, and he heeded the sign.

A sudden nearby explosion immediately disrupted his concentration and left a dull ringing in his ears. He and Uriko both fell over in the confusion, and were sporadically pelted with some minor debris.

A lone werewolf breached the silvery white shroud and appeared before him. It was a naked tan-skinned male from the waist down, but from the chiseled midsection and beyond, the body gradually morphed into a brown wolf with short perky ears and yellow eyes. On the pupil, there appeared to be the faintest hunt of purple, like a small amethyst. "Found you!" the hostile hybrid snarled at him fiercely before raising aloft a flint handaxe above Karus' head. The purple gem in his eyes appeared to shine brighter in that instant.

Karus fumbled to pick up his staff. Caught prone, he knew he would not be able to dodge or intercept the strike in time.

Uriko roared and sprang forward from the ground, slamming her entire feline form into the enemy and knocking him backwards before the attack could connect. They rolled over twice in the mud, ending with Uriko straddling him. She pulled back her right arm, extended her claws, and struck him, etching five deep gashes across his face. The creature's body jerked violently once, and went completely still.

Karus quickly scrambled to his feet. He then walked over to Uriko and placed a hand on Uriko's shoulder. "We have to-"

She hissed at him, as if startled, causing him to pull back in shock. "I'm sorry, I just-" She appeared to be unable to control her own animalistic instincts.

Karus gulped, watching some clinging sinews from her slain foe's face slide off of her bloodstained claws. This was not the same shifter he had spoken to nights prior. Her strength had increased several times fold, along with her ferocity. _What happened to you?_ He wanted to ask, but knew this was not the wisest time for questioning. "Let's go," Karus decided to say instead, and the three continued their blind trek away from the sounds of distant battle.

"Are we being followed?" Karus beckoned to his wolf companion.

"No! Keep runnin!" Kaiba reassured him.

As the sounds of carnage began to fade, Karus stopped and took a moment to catch his breath and reassess his surroundings. The mist was thinner here, but the cover of night also made perception difficult. "I can't see," he muttered to himself in frustration. "Kaiba, scout ahead," he commanded, and dispelled his companion, returning him to the unseen world.

Karus then returned his attention towards Uriko, who was sitting beside him and remaining morosely silent. He had a multitude of things he wanted to ask her, but did not know where to start.

Uriko was breathing slowly and heavily as she looked upon her hands, which were still caked with blood and gore. Her eyes were distant and unresponsive.

"Uriko, are you hurt?" Karus asked. He was far too diminished to cast his healing magic, but he could at least provide some medical help, if needed.

Uriko slowly turned to face him. "No," she replied monotonously.

"That's a relief," Karus said with a nervous chuckle. His concern shifted to the heavily injured Chrovan and others, but he could not find them, let alone help them in his current state. His own body had become fatigued from channeling so much spiritual energy in such a short time, so staying behind would've been suicide. His heart sank when he remembered what had also been left behind. _The mother and child,_ he thought, suddenly filled with crippling remorse. _Curses, we abandoned them._ In his haste and desperation, all he could do was save the only person he could see. It turned out to be a wise decision; without her he would've been killed during the escape attempt. "Thank you for saving my life back there," Karus thanked her with a sincere smile.

"Don't thank me," Uriko meekly replied. She clenched her crusted hands into tight fists. "I lead them straight to you. I made it all worse."

She wasn't wrong, he realized. Zanzibar would've headed straight for them, and Marcus had neither the strength nor numbers to oppose them. Unless by some miracle, that mother and her unborn child were surely doomed.

"And now they're all dead or captured because of me," Uriko bitterly strained out through gritted teeth.

Karus didn't want to believe those cruel, harsh words. He struggled to understand, as a maelstrom of regret and pity swelled up within him. Eventually, it boiled over, and hardened into anger. "Why? Why did you make a deal with Zanzibar?"

"I wanted to kill him," Uriko did not hesitate to respond. "I wanted to kill Adamance." She took a deep breath to stabilize her trembling body and voice. "I've yearned for vengeance for so long, and yesterday, fate finally gave me a name and a face."

"Do you realize what you've done?" Karus knew that he should keep his voice down, but his words came out sharply. "What your actions have cost us?"

"You don't know how it feels to lose everything!" Uriko stood up to meet his challenge. "How it feels to have everything you've ever loved ripped from you like a-"

Karus parted his robe, to show her the scar etched across his chest. His sudden gesture halted Uriko's shaky words of protest. Tor's sword had etched a deadly red line, that looked as fresh as if it was carved out weeks ago. He remembered how the cut almost reached his heart, and how it had burned more than a thousand brushfires. The pain was vivid and tortuous, and Karus remembered begging for death as the wound festered and twisted his very soul. "You don't think I know?"

Uriko turned away from him, hiding her shame. "I-" was the only word she could muster.

"Now you've taken your vengeance, was it worth it?" Karus continued scolding her as he refastened his garment. "Was it worth everyone's life? That unborn child's life?!" His voice grew louder with each word he spoke, as he grew increasingly unable to contain himself. Karus stopped when he remembered that they were still in danger, and any noises could potentially lead enemies to their location. He grasped the sides of his head and pulled on the hair, trying to quell the tempest of emotions that were overwhelming him.

Uriko could not muster an answer. She couldn't even look him in the eye. She merely buried her hands into her face and began to cry softly.

"Well, you made your decision. And we all will just have to live with it." Karus turned away, and began pacing aimlessly.

The two did not converse for several minutes. They waited silently in the fog for a signal to continue. After some time, Karus planted his staff into the dirt again, resummoning Kaiba in a puff of white smoke.

"I found a safe way out," Kaiba told them.

"Lead the way, friend." Karus grew increasingly nervous as he could hear the sounds of movement further back the way they came from. It wouldn't be long if someone managed to find their marks and track them back to their current location.

They both began to walk away, but Karus realized that Uriko had not moved from her position. She was still hugging her knees and not saying a word.

"Uriko," Karus starting talking, but did not know how to proceed. "We have to go." He approached her slowly, with an outstretched hand.

He could only hear her muttering some indiscernible words under her breath, despite not stirring the slightest. The air begun to feel colder the closer he go to her.

"Uriko?"

"He deserved to die," Uriko finally responded, and looked up to face him squarely in the eyes. Her fur had become puffy and stood on end. "They all deserved to die." She said coldly, not breaking her hate-filled gaze. Her eyes flashed purple for the slightest moment.

Karus flinched, hesitant to touch her. "What are you talking abo-"

Uriko abruptly stood up and bull-rushed him, throwing him several feet backwards. The impact of the landing knocked the breath from his lungs.

Before he could even regain his bearings, Uriko had leapt onto his body, pinning him down. "I'm glad I killed him. And I would do it a thousand times more!" She screamed as her eyes flared up with feral rage.

"Get off of him!" Kaiba acted on his own accord and barrelled towards Uriko, passing entirely through her body and appearing on the opposite end.

The attack barely fazed her. Uriko shrugged off the pain of Kaiba's phasing strike, and kept her eyes affixed to Karus. "If you would get in the way of my revenge, I will show you no mercy, either!"

Karus looked into her eyes, and beheld the same peculiar phenomenon more clearly. The purple tint at the center of her eyes flushed, just like the werewolf from before.

"There you are!" Uriko said with uncharacteristic malice. She raised a bloody clawed hand aloft, and prepared to bring it down upon Karus' head.

"Please, don't!" Karus could only instinctively put his arms up in defense.

The paw seemingly smoked as it streaked downwards at blinding speed.

Karus could only shut his eyes and braced himself for the pain to come.

Uriko's clawed paw rained down from the sky and landed a inch from his head with a cacophanous thud. Karus could feel the massive impact tremor along the dirt at the back of his head, but he was thankfully unharmed.

Uriko pulled her hand back. Karus noticed that she had shut her eyes entirely, and her whole body had begun trembling again. She clumsily scrambled off of his body and retreated away.

Karus rolled to one side and coughed. _What is happening to her?_

"Just leave me," Uriko said, shutting her eyes tightly and bowing over on the ground. "If I come with you, she will see."

Karus finally understood. Uriko's power had come from some dark pact, and yielded unnaturally increased mental and physical abilities. Much like with the other werewolves, Zanzibar now had some more of mind control and manipulation cast upon her, which exacerbated her negative emotions, causing her to lash out and act more upon instinct than thought.

"Just get away from me!" Uriko cried out. She looked back up to him, and immediately shut her eyes once more and gripped the sides of her head, as if she were in agonizing pain.

"Just keep your eyes shut," Karus instructed her softly as he approached her. "If you can't see, then neither can she," he reasoned.

"We have to go now," Kaiba urged them.

Karus could hear tracking wolves barking loudly in the distance. _They caught our trail._

"Leave me!" Uriko repeated in despair.

"I am not letting you die here," Karus said sternly as he tore off a strip from his cloak. He then proceeded to wrap it around Uriko's eyes, like a makeshift blindfold. She struggled at first, but eventually acquiesced. After securing it tightly, he held her at both sides of her face. "The others might still be alive. You can't make it up to them if you're dead." He started guiding her gently to her feet. "You're not getting out of this that easily," he said half-jokingly.

Uriko hesitantly grasped his arm and held on tightly.

Karus turned back towards his companion, who promptly led them through the woods, and hopefully towards safety.

Kaiba bounded through the woods as Karus ran behind him, one hand holding Uriko tightly and leading her along. He did his best to maneuver through the woods safely, but with her sight impaired, she occasionally stumbled and was hit by a stray branch from time to time. His sensitive ears could still pick up the faintest echo of distant wolves.

"No, stop!" Uriko called out, halting their advance mid-stride.

"We can't delay. They're gaining on us," Kaiba warned them.

"I know that," Uriko retorted. "What I was going to say was that we need to cover our scent path, or they'll inevitably find a way to us."

"What are you proposing?" Karus asked, hastily, taking a moment to catch his breath, and regain his bearings.

"Reach into my satchel," Uriko carefully instructed him. "Inside there is a conical glass vial of dark red powder."

Karus clumsily rummaged through her belongings and eventually found the requested item. He held up a vial filled with an unknown clumpy maroon powder, which was sealed shut with a cork. "Is this it?" He asked, holding it closer to her face. When he remembered that she was still blindfolded and couldn't see, he sheepishly corrected himself. "Sorry, I found it. Glass vial of red pepper. What is this stuff?"

"It's concentrated pepper extract," she explained. "It'll mask our scent, and make it too painful for the dogs to track us."

Karus was unfamiliar with this tactic, but he decided to trust the druid's expertise. "Okay, then. What do I do with it?"

"Dump it on our feet, and on our tracks as we run," she instructed. "Quickly!"

Karus heeded her advice and dumped a gratuitous amount of the red powder over his feet and on their tracks before continuing their escape. _I hope this works._ In their current situation, he accepted any strategy that would improve their slim odds. Severely outnumbered and weakened, they had no chance surviving in another confrontation.

The party of three forced their way through the forest, dumping whatever remained of Uriko's pepper extract in their wake.

After some time of unbroken sprinting, Uriko spoke up. "It's working. They're losing us."

Karus felt a slight sense of relief. "Excellent. But we're not in the clear yet." He held onto her hand tightly and lead her along, making sure she had a safe path to traverse.

After a few minutes, they could no longer hear the wolves. But to be safe, they continued their arduous march for a several more minutes.

In the dead of night, every sound the forest made caused Karus' heart to skip. A looming storm cloud of dream hung over his head throughout the journey. His legs burned from fatigue, his lungs were scorched, and his throat was parched, but he pressed onward, determined to keep Uriko safe.

Eventually they reached another clearing. "We're safe, for now," Karus declared. He sat Uriko down and rested her back against the moss-covered roots of a nearby tree. "How are you feeling?" He asked her.

"Head's spinning," Uriko strained out. "But aside from that I'll be fine. Maybe I can take this off?" She reached for the blindfold, but Karus grabbed her arm and stopped her just as she was about to peel off the cloth.

"We're not sure how far Zanzibar's magic reaches," Karus reasoned. "Until we can get that curse out of you, perhaps we should keep that on," he gently suggested.

Uriko sighed in frustration. "Fine."

"Someone's coming," Kaiba informed him, snapping him back to high alert.

"They found us?" Karus whispered, fearful of their current situation.

"I don't think so," Kaiba lifted his nose and scanned it from side to side to take in more of the environment. "I can only sense two of them. They're clad in metal. And injured."

 _Smells like blood._ Karus' sensitive lupine nostrils could always discern that telltale scent. "Might be injured New Moons," he deduced. "Stay on your guard."

Several paces away, from beyond the foliage, Karus could hear the rattling of shifting chainmail. One of them was groaning lightly, and dragging his feet as the other grunted while carrying him. _I might not get another chance like this,_ Karus contemplated. To protect himself and Uriko, he would have to strike first, and finish them off quickly. A protracted battle could leave him injured, or even worse, draw the pursuing Feral Hearts back onto their tail. Karus made eye contact with his wolf spirit companion and noded. Kaiba and he had been partners for a while now, so they could understand each other easily without directly communicating.

Karus stayed low and gripped his staff tightly in both hands as he moved forward. He took slow and deliberate steps, in an attempt to mask his presence. Meanwhile, Kaiba glided along the earth with nary a sound. The indistinct chatter of the unsuspecting New Moons grew louder as they approached, undetected. Karus mentally prepared himself.

Both of them circled around the tree, forming a pincer, and closed in with a preemptive strike. Karus raised his staff high and prepared to swing it down on the first target he could find. Kaiba dropped his stance and bared his dagger-filled maw before barrelling forward at the first body he saw.

Karus halted his blow in its tracks the moment his eyes locked with Lance's.

The soldier already had his sword held in both hands and poised it for a stab at Karus direction. Lance shifted forward, as if to attack, but also halted himself. "Karus!" He exclaimed as Lance narrowly prevented himself from running Karus through.

Kaiba launched himself onto Lance's back and knocked him over into the dirt. He prepared to sink his teeth into the man's exposed nape.

"Stop, Kaiba!" Karus frantically stopped his companion before any last damage could be done.

Kaiba immediately stood down and leapt nonchalantly off his Lance's back.

"I'm so sorry!" Karus apologized as he knelt down and helped Lance back up to his feet. "I thought you were New Moons!" He dusted off his friend.

"It's okay," Lance said with a ragged cough. "I almost killed you too, so we're even," he joked halfheartedly.

Karus looked past Lance, and realized that Frelick was also present, and lying in the dirt, slumped against the base of the tree. He was wounded; there a large wrapping of blood soaked bandages covering his shoulder. "Frelick!" Karus ran to his friend's side to inspect his wounds. None of them appeared to be fatal, but the shoulder wound could cause a potentially lethal infection if left untreated. "What in the world are you two doing here?" Karus asked them, concerned. "It's a war zone in the forest right now!"

"I know," Frelick weakly uttered. He smiled at Karus with one eye swollen shut from injury. "We tried to find you."

"Why?"

"We," Lance interjected, and corrected himself. "Frelick wanted to help you. When he found out what Adamance and the others were planning to do, he just couldn't keep his nose out of it." His voice resonated with resentment. "We were en route to your location to warn you, but we were ambushed by a scouting party."

Karus looked at Lance, and realized that his armor and skin was also crusted with blood, but none of it was his own. Lance's hair was muddled with dirt and sweat, and there were chip marks all along the length of his blade.

"I'm sorry," Frelick strained out through gritted teeth. "They...the Feral Hearts...they took Uriko," he uttered, ashamed. "We couldn't help her."

Karus hushed him, "It's okay, Frelick. Uriko is okay. She's with us." He turned his attention back to Kaiba, who was on standby, awaiting further orders. "Kaiba, bring Uriko over here."

Without a word, the spirit wolf trotted away back to where Uriko was waiting.

"Thank the gods." Frelick coughed weakly as he shifted his body. It appeared like he couldn't get comfortable. He reached to scratch his wound, but Karus wouldn't let him.

"Don't do that, you'll only make it worse."

Frelick relaxed his body and closed both his eyes, returning to a barely conscious state. Karus could still see his chest compressing with regular breaths, so he did not despair. In the silence, Karus noticed that Frelick's brow was pouring sweat, and his body temperature was gradually rising. Once they found a safe enough place to rest, Karus could regain usage of his restorative magic. _You'll be fine. Just rest._

"Where are the others?" Lance spoke up.

"We were separated. I don't know where the others are," Karus admitted.

"And what about the New Moons? What happened to Adamance and the others?" Lance pried further.

"Adamance is dead," Uriko declared boldly as she stumbled into view, with Kaiba leading her steps.

Lance's mouth hung wide in disbelief. "Are you certain?"

"I'm certain," she said coldly as she sat herself down beside Frelick.

"Lance," Karus tried to keep him focused on their current situation. " It's not safe here for any of us. How do we get back into the city?"

"What makes you think I would lead you back to Crescent's Peak?" Lance shouted back. "It's your fault we're even out here right now!"

"I didn't ask you to follow me," Karus retorted, growing frustrated.

"We were worried about you. We thought we could trust you," Lance said, sounding betrayed. "They said you allied yourself with the werewolves. That you were spies and assassins."

"We are not allied with anyone," Karus whispered sharply, trying to convince Lance to keep his voice down. "We just wanted peace." He turned to look at Uriko, contemplating what to say next. "But that just wasn't possible." He looked into Lance's eyes. "Please. I am still your friend. Trust me," he pleaded.

Lance looked away and paced thrice around in the dirt, contemplating his conundrum. "Can you help Frelick get better?" He asked.

"I swear, I will do all in my power to protect you and your brother. Even if it costs me my life. That is a promise I make to all of my friends," Karus said confidently.

Lance took a deep breath and sighed. "Alright, come with me."

The quartet cut through the remainder of the forest with ease. Lance slung the injured Frelick on his back as Karus helped, all the while Uriko trailed behind, led by Kaiba. The forest gradually relinquished and they were ejected back onto the main dirt road on the eastern end of Crescent's Peak. Lance led them discretely back into the town through a hidden entrance, only accessible by the city watch. They had returned to the town, just as the sunlight began creeping up on the horizon, filling the sky with a pale blue.

They marched down the main road through the residential district, until they heard a disturbance further ahead. Karus could hear stomping feet and clattering metal rapidly approaching. Someone was barking orders in the distance.

"Stop!" Lance whispered sharply. "There are troops ahead!" He warned as he pulled them into a nearby alleyway. They quickly scrambled to hide behind the various barrels and crates strewn about the area, and waited in silence as the roaming squad rolled past them.

"Seal the gates!" One of them commanded. "No one goes in or out of the city anymore!"

 _Curse_ s, Karus thought. Lance poked his head out to further check their surroundings. "Dammit," he grunted in annoyance. "They're are too many in the way right now. We can't take you back to our place without being spotted."

"Where else can we hide?" Karus asked, concerned. He would prefer not to encounter anyone else from the city watch at the time, especially given their prejudice towards his wolf-like physical characteristics.

Lance rubbed the back of his neck. "I have no idea. Any chance you made another friend since you've been here?" He rotated his shoulder to alleviate the strain that carrying Frelick had caused.

Karus ruminated for a moment. "I know someone. It's risky, but it's worth a shot."

"Better than staying out in the open like this," Lance shrugged, knowing full well they had no other options available.

Karus did his best to retrace his steps from wandering through the city during the previous night. He eventually found his bearings, and lead the party of four towards a seemingly inconspicuous house with a green door. The sun finally crept up from beneath the far-off mountains, casting its light brightly across the townscape. Somewhere else, Karus could hear a rooster crowing. Karus took a breath to calm his rattled and sleep-deprived nerves, and knocked on the door thrice. _Please be home_.

He waited hoped as the party stood behind him. Frelick learned lazily onto Lance's trembling frame, moving in and out of consciousness on a whim. Uriko stood solemnly behind him, still unable to see on her own. And Kaiba had been dispelled prior, as he wasn't needed any more for the time being.

After a few disheartening moments without a response, he could hear locks disengaging on the opposite end. The door finally creaked open, and he came face-to-face with the small child from before. The little girl with the raven black hair and the shimmering cerulean eyes stared up to him. She rubbed one eye as her other hand held her wolf doll tightly against her chest. She was clad in a lacy white sleeping attire. "Can I help you?" She groggily greeted him. Her eyes moved up and down his body, inspecting him.

Karus did not know how to start. "Um, I don't know if you remember me," he stammered awkwardly. "But I-"

She suddenly gasped loudly, causing him to flinch in his high-strung state. "I remember you!" She pointed at the top of his head and smiled. "Wolf ears!"

"Yeah, it's me, whatever your name is," Karus frantically responded. He could hear troops approaching their location.

"It's Alice!" She declared with a friendly grin.

"My name is Karus," he started, trying to maintain his composure. "And these are my friends." He gestured to the rest of the group.

"They're coming. We don't have time for this," Lance warned aloud, further stressing him.

"Listen, Alice. Ee don't have time to make introductions. Are your parents home right now?" Karus asked quickly, whipping his head back to check if they had been seen yet.

"No, they're still out," Alice said as she yawned cutely.

"Can we please come inside? We need somewhere to rest," he pleaded as politely as he could, despite the severity of the situation and his increasingly tensing nerves.

"I don't know," Alice made a confused face. "Dad doesn't like it when I let people into the house without his permission."

"If you let us in now, I'll get you a new doll! It'll be an even bigger wolf! With blue stripes!" Karus improvised a lie as quickly as he could.

"Sure!" Alice said cheerfully as she opened the door wider, allowing them to enter freely.

The group quickly rushed into the mysterious residence and slammed the door shut. Immediately after they were safely inside, Karus could hear footsteps marching past outside the door. "Thank goodness," Karus rested his body weight onto his staff, awash in relief. "We should be safe for now."


	15. Tunnel of Silver

Marcus weakly opened his eyes to an unending blackness. No matter how much he blinked, his lupine eyes could not adjust to the pitch black. He started to move, but then involuntarily gasped in pain. He rolled to one side and began violently coughing, finally ceasing after he tasted blood. There were painful welts scattered all along his back from where he had fallen onto rocks, which did little to soften the fall. Thankfully, his lycanthropic healing factor had already begun to take effect, and he could feel his wounds gradually sticking themselves shut. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision, but to no avail; before his eyes there was a seemingly unending darkness. He reached his hand out to gain some bearing on his surroundings through touch, but instead he felt another body beside him.

The body jolted to life and violently seized his arm. Marcus felt scales all along the length of the muscular, trashing limb, indicating armor. He attempted to grapple with the unseen adversary.

"Unhand me!" The fellow in the darkness said in a deep, throaty voice as his clawed grip tightened and dug into Marcus' fur.

Marcus realized that the scales were on this unseen man's skin, not his armor. "Is that you, Grelos?" He chanced a guess, while maintaining his clinch upon the struggling foe, prepared to defend himself if necessary.

"Marcus?" The shadow questioned back as it eased up on the clinch.

"Yes, it's me!" Marus confirmed as he ceased his grip upon the dragonborn ally.

Grelos followed suit, and ceased the aimless wrestle. "Where are we?" He asked between sporadic coughing fits.

"I don't know," Marcus rubbed the sides of his throbbing head in an attempt to recollect how they ended up here. "Last thing I remember was..." He paused to recollect his thoughts, and remembered the explosion that caused the cave in. "We're underground. Somewhere beneath the caverns." Marcus clasped a hand around Grelos' forearm, offering to help him up to his feet.

"I can't see a damn thing here," Grelos muttered in frustration. Marcus could hear pebbles clattering onto the rocky floor as he hoisted the dragonborn up.

Marcus patted himself, in an attempt to find a sunrod or tindertwig. Alas, his pockets were empty; most likely shaken loose during the rocky collapse. Out of options, he sniffed the air as they both continued to look around for a mean to shed some light. His sensitive lupine nostrils picked up the scent of alcohol. _What's this?_ He moved towards the source of the smell, barely half a dozen paces away, and knelt down to inspect it with his hands. They swept across what felt like a broken bottle, which smelled of a strong alcoholic spirit. "I think I found your last bit of spitfire," Marcus remarked aloud at his stumbling companion.

"Damn it, I was hoping to save that for later," Grelos grumbled.

Marcus rubbed his chin as he pondered silently. The spirit was heavily concentrated, and would burn well. "Can you light this?"

Marcus waited as the dragonborn carefully stumbled in the darkness and joined him beside the cracked bottle.

Once he had been pointed towards the spill, Grelos recited a brief arcane incantation, which generated a spark from out his index finger. The blue arc struck the center of the pool and ignited the concentrated alcohol. A calm blue flame sprung about, illuminating their environment.

Marcus reared his head backwards in order to look directly upwards from the bottom of the chasm into which they fell. From where they were standing to the ceiling, they had fallen at least twenty feet. The opening from above had also sealed itself as well, and did not look particularly stable. The rays of light highlighted the dust that was gradually sifting down onto them. All around him, there were varying shattered rocks and walls of stone blocking all progress.

"Where are the others?" Grelos began.

"They're probably still up...there." The remainder of Marcus' injury-scrambled memories snapped back into his contused brain, and his relief quickly shifted to a suffocating dread. "No," he murmured under his breath. "No!" He repeated, this time shouting aloud, taking no effort to hide his fear. He quickly moved along the walls, attempting to feeling out some semblance of a path. "My family is still up there! Zanzibar will kill them!" He attempted to climb the earthen wreckage, but was unable to secure any stable footing.

"Marcus," Grelos called out to his back, which he ignored.

Every time Marcus hoisted himself up, another portion of the weakened earth would chip and crumble, causing him to slide back to ground level. He dug his fingers deeper into the wall, and pain returned to his finger stubs as they pressed against the rock.

Grelos walked up to him and placed a firm but comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's useless. We can't go back up there."

In his frustration, Marcus defensively shoved off Grelos' arm. "No! I have to save them!" he snapped back.

Grelos grabbed him again, this time yanking him toward himself so they were staring at each other eye-to-eye. "We can't stay here," he repeated sternly.

Marcus was too disheveled and panicked to think straight. "But my family is still up there! Zanzibar is going to kill them! My wife...and my child." The warmth from his face was stolen away as a thought too horrendous to fathom crossed his mind.

Grelos unexpectedly reached out a hand and slapped Marcus in the face to jolt him back into his senses. "Calm yourself, Marcus," he said sharply. "You have to be strong, for them. And for your pack."

Marcus took several stunned and stilted breaths to calm himself, and finally responded, "You're right, Grelos." He avoided direct eye-contact with the dragonborn, like a child that had just been reprimanded.

"We're getting out of here," Grelos reassured him. "Now, let's try to find a way through before we suffocate." Grelos turned around and began leading them out of the chamber, using both outstretched hands as a means of gauging where the walls were.

Several dreadful hours passed as the duo stumbled in the darkness. Whenever they arrived at a fork in the road, they would put their trust in fate and choose randomly, leaving behind a piece of torn cloth or trinket in order to mark the intersection, in case they needed to backtrack after reaching a dead end. Often than not, they would move uninterrupted down the cavern, and thankfully never encountered any impassable obstacles or hazards. The air grew closer and hotter as they traversed deeper, but at least they were getting farther away from danger.

Eventually, Grelos' feet passed by something that crackled, fell over, and knocked up some dust. He looked to his feet and created a small blast of sparks with his magic to briefly illuminate the area, and found old desiccated bones of something humanoid clad in mining attire. "That's comforting," Grelos grumbled sarcastically.

From the state of the corpse, it had been there for several years. _Probably some poor bastard who go lost, just like us._ Marcus disliked the idea of dying from thirst or starvation underground, but all he could thinking about was whether Cynthia and his child were able to evade Zanzibar's clutches. _Please be safe, my moon._

Grelos, whom was walking beside him and keeping up the pace, suddenly veered sharply to the side and landed against the wall.

"Grelos, are you okay?" Marcus attempted to help, but the proud dragonborn waved him away.

Grelos slid forward, placing one hand against the wall to support himself. But with each subsequent step, Marcus noticed that his legs began to wobble.

"What's wrong?" Marcus repeated, placing a concerned hand on his shoulder.

"It's nothing, I'm just-" Grelos mental train appeared to derail itself mid-sentence, and all Marcus received was a wordless stare. Grelos' knees then buckled, and he tumbled over in his stupor.

Marcus caught Grelo's falling body mid-fall and eased him onto his back, taking great care not to injure his companion. He gently rested him against the earthen wall, and pressed two of his fingers against Grelos' neck, to check is pulse. _Weak, but it's still there. Thank the gods._ The scent of blood was still fresh on him, indicating that old wounds had either opened up, or new wounds had taken their place. The dragonborn had shield Marcus from the suicide bomber's attack, after all, and had taken the brunt of the scorching impact.

"We have to...we have to..." Grelos could barely muster up the strength to speak coherently anymore. He swatted at the empty air with his dirt and blood crusted hands.

"You're not going anywhere," Marcus replied sternly. "If you keep pushing yourself like this, you'll bleed to death." Marcus' hands moved down to Grelos' leg in order to adjust the tourniquet, which had become loose during travel. Predictably, Grelos tried to bat Marcus away, but to no avail. The bandages around the gash he had sustained on his leg were damp and warm, despite the rest of his body growing colder and colder.

Marcus tore off a sizeable portion of his tattered cloak and added to the field dressing the best he could. He had hands for knife and bow work, not for healing. "That's a best I can do for now. You need to rest, and eat something, if possible."

"I'll take a rack of lamb," Grelos found the strength to half-heartedly jest between slow breaths.

"Smart ass," Marcus murmured under his breath as he stood up. "I'll have to get you to a safer spot," he declared aloud. He invoked his innate shapeshifting powers and took hybrid wolf form, causing his muscles to bulge out as his skin became covered by a layer of thick, bushy fur. In a display of his immense werewolf strength, he picked up Grelos, cradling him in his arms, and confidently marched further into the darkness.

Every now and then, Marcus would halt to sniff the air, before continuing with determination. There was no way of knowing if he was just getting them more lost, but the faint glimmer of home gave him wings. _I have to save them_ , he repeated to himself. _I will make right by them._

After several long and drawn-out hours of wandering the corridors, only led by the faint trace of fresh air, Marcus decided to stop, and carefully placed Grelos back onto the ground. The air had become less stale with the hours that passed, filling him with some degree of confidence. _We're not going to die here._

Marcus could hear the faint sounds of trickling water nearby. He marched over to the underwater stream and tasted it. After swishing it in his mouth for a bit, he swallowed. The water felt thick and tasted vaguely metallic, but in his current state it was more heavenly than the finest wine. A few tense seconds passed without an ill effect, so this time Marcus scooped out some water in two hands, and moved swiftly over to Grelos' side. "Drink," he commanded as he tilted the leaky container onto Grelos' mouth.

Grelos hoisted himself to Marcus' hands, choking down several large gulps. He was clearly parched after their ordeal. Marcus made several more trips to ensure that the badly injured dragonborn had his fill.

It appeared that the refreshment had restored some semblance of the dragonborn's lost zeal. Grelos managed to muster up some remnant strength and dragged his body into a more comfortable sitting position.

At the stream, Marcus could hear a sudden splash. His hunter instincts took hold, and he dropped to all fours, charging back towards the water. His ears following the sound of swishing water, and his clawed hand shot into the pool like a fisherman's spear. He pierced and gutted a fish-shaped creature, and pulled its squirming mass out onto relatively dry land. He then located the head, and tore it off with one crunch of his jowls, ceasing its incessant struggling. _Tastes like piss,_ he thought, almost gagging from his enhanced senses. He forcefully swallowed a rubbery and bony chunk and gasped for air. _Goddamn, that rank._ Optimistically, at least is body no longer craved food. Shifting to his werewolf form always worked up an appetite, due to the strain it would cause him over time. He carried the pungent carcass of the salty cave fish over to Grelos' side. He tore the creature in half and pushed the larger chunk near Grelos face. "You're going to hate me for this, but here's your dinner."

The dragonborn inhaled once and gagged audibly. "Smells like rotten fish shit," Grelos grumbled in-between spastic coughs.

"Well, you're no bed of roses either," Marcus joked, and plopped the bulbous mass into Grelos' limp and open palm. "Eat this and rest. You'll need to keep up your strength."

After a brief paus, Grelos took a deep breath and bit into the unseen mass of flesh.

Marcus reverted back to human form, to conserve energy. Thankfully the odor was not as powerful as he experienced it before. He mentally prepared himself for taking another bite, and sank his teeth in once more. The flesh parted easily like a piece of gelatin and he choked down another mouthful, throwing it far to the back of his throat to minimize contact with his tongue.

The pair sat in the darkness, eating their impromptu meals without any conversation to pass the time. Afterwards, Marcus felt the onset of fatigue, so he rolled to his side to find a comfortable position to nap, but he could not leave the waking world. His thoughts were troubled. _Where are the others? Did they make it? Please be safe._ There were too many questions that needed answers for him to sleep. He could hear Grelos stirring behind him, fidgeting and occasionally cracking his joints.

"You awake, Grelos?" Marcus beckoned to him.

No reply was given. Thankfully, Marcus could still hear the dragonborn's light, labored snoring, so at least he wasn't dead. Grelos was always a poor conversationalist either way, so Marcus learned not to mind.

Marcus' phantom fingers itched again. He raised the half-hand directly in front of his face, but the darkness made it impossible to see. He moved all his fingers in wave, starting from the present thumb and all the way down to the absent pinky. The stumps at which he chopped them off had finally healed, but the sensation was still alien to him. It vexed him with its unscratchable itch as he sat in quiet contemplation.

Alone with his thoughts and an unresponsive ally, Marcus reminisced about his wife, and the double life he had led up to this point. He blamed himself for all the bloodshed and pain that had been wrought these past few weeks. _If only I had been a better man, and not such a coward._ He slammed the back of his head against the stone wall behind him in a half-hearted attempt to self-harm. _I'm so sorry, Cynthia._ _I should never have lied to you._ Within the inky blackness of the cavern, with only the distant dripping of water awkwardly filling silence, Marcus allowed himself to drift within his memories.

Years ago, before Marcus first stole the form of Cynthia's husband, he was just another member of the Feral Hearts; a common foot soldier within the werewolf army. Zanzibar was a fellow packmate, although a much more ambitious one, and had not yet risen to such prominence. They had drifted apart so far throughout the years. _Some things change._ At the time, the so-called holy man Pardue was still ruling with fear atop Crescent's Peak. _Some things don't._ There was an uneasy truce between the town and their tribe, despite it occasionally boiling over into isolated bloody incidents.

One fateful day, Marcus and the original Travis encountered one another in the woods, and fought to the death. Marcus' superior hunting skills ensured his victory, but he did not emerge from the battle unscathed. He recalled the terror of being surrounded by approaching unseen townsmen from all directions, bloodied and barely able to move, let alone defend himself. Each member of his tribe was given a potion that could temporarily assume the form of anyone they came in contact with, and could be used only in dire situations. Marcus remembered the pain as the magical elixir contorted his facial bones and muscles in order to take on the visage of the man he had just killed. He must've lost consciousness from the ordeal, either from the blood-loss of the potion's side-effects, because his next discrete memory was awakening within the town, covered from legs to neck in bandages and being cared for by some strange woman.

When they first met, Cynthia was a reserved and soft-spoken woman. She sat vigilant by his side, sometime for hours without a stir, and tended to his wounds with utmost fervor. At first, Marcus misconstrued her for a particularly diligent nurse. _She takes her job seriously_ , he recalled thinking, waiting for a chance to escape her watchful eye. The first time he attempted an escape, his legs went limp as a boned fish and he collapsed face-first into the floor. He managed to drag himself halfway towards the exit before his caretaker return and gently returned him back to his bed. Despite her demure demeanor, she was stronger than he initially estimated. It was then that he noticed that she had a freshly split lip and a bruise around her eye from some undisclosed recent event. The medicine that he had taken that night left him in a dreamless state for an extended period of time, and the days passed in a flash.

By the fourth day, the wounds sustained by his slain foe's silvered dagger had finally stitched themselves up. Marcus had regained the strength to sit upright, and the woman continued to feed and care for him. Each silent hour he passed with her felt faster as he recovered, and he grew to appreciate her presence. She had the most gorgeous green eyes, that shone like endless pits lined with emeralds. And her red curls swayed with each move like a wildfire after a lightning storm. Every night, after all of the other nurses and caretakers had left the healing house, she curiously stayed behind. She seemed oddly receptive of his advances, and the two eventually made love for the first time. _I was a goddamn fool._ _I should've known._

It was on the fifth day of continuous care that he learned that she was the wife of the man whom he had recently killed, and whose face he was still wearing through illusion magic. "Cynthia," he finally hear her name for the first time. And in that moment, he realized that he had committed a monstrous act. That night, in his fear of retribution, he planned an escape, and sought to slip away under the cover of night. He could've ended it there, but something compelled him to stay.

This strange woman was not a warrior, but she had a different strength to her. She was kindhearted and caring, despite the harshness of the world around her. He learned to admire her for it. And he could not bear the thought of revealing the horrific truth to her. It felt cruel to also leave her, after she had done so much for him without asking for anything in return. That day, Marcus decided to stay behind to make amends for his actions, while hiding his true identity and nature. And that decision would eventually cause the catastrophe that would unravel everything.

It was awkward at first, but Cynthia seemed to love him back, despite his physical facade. He had to become used to the prospect of being called "Travis" over the course of the next few weeks. He could come close to being discovered, but thankfully fortune smiled upon him.

The two were happy together for a while. He never saw her with similar injuries ever again, so he assumed they were inflicted by a long-departed party. This new life, with a new identity, gave him a peace he couldn't have possibly dreamed of as a member of such a warmongering clan as the Feral Hearts.

Everything changed when Marcus found out that she had become pregnant with his child. He vowed to take responsibility and protect that child with his life. But it became increasingly difficult to hide his condition, as the escalating conflict between Pardue and Zanzibar grew, and the lines in the sand became ever clearer. More sentries, more inspections, and more accursed silver stole his waking hours. Eventually, he planned to escape with his wife and unborn child, and abandon it all behind. _For their safety, I was willing to give it all up. The clan, the tribe, our home, everything. I just wanted them to be safe from my mistakes._

Alas, his wife's sister Trisha, observant woman she was, discovered the truth first, and took matters into her own hands. The pain was still fresh on the bones of his hand, but he didn't bear her any ill will; _she just wanted to protect her sister from the monster wearing her dead husband's face_. Trisha cursed his wedding ring, causing it to spontaneously turn into silver, and it burned him to his very bones. Her enchantment also made removal impossible, and it clung to him like a red-hot hoop of iron. Wracked in agony, Marcus did all that he could to free himself from the torment; he fled into the woods, and chop off his own fingers to remove the curse item.

 _Please be safe,_ he repeated in his mind. _I would give anything. My other fingers, my eyes, my life...to see you safe._ Marcus drifted from the blackness into his memories, twiddling his invisible fingers.

"Wake up, Marcus," Grelos' gravelly voice lifted him from his slumber. Sometime during his reminiscence, Marcus had fallen asleep. An unknowable period later, Grelos was now standing before him.

Marcus groggily blinked both eyes, in an attempt to clear his vision. After remembering that it was futile in the pitch black, he return his attention back to the dragonborn. "How are you already back on your feet?"

"Magic," Grelos said, waving a clawed hand that had burst into green flames. The aura surrounded his entire body like a thin layer of brightly colored moss. "This is temporary though, we should keep moving."

Marcus agreed, springing to his feet. "After you." He followed closely behind the lightly glowing dragonborn, as he led the way with his arcanic illumination. The walls looked chipped and covered with tiny indents, as if stakes had been hammered into the walls a long time ago. Marcus paid the minor detail no mind, and the two trudged on into the unknown.

Several hours passed before Marcus noticed any change in the surrounding terrain. "I see something," he called out, when he shota white glow at the end of a nearby forking tunnel. "It's light! I think we found a way outside!" He took the lead, and quickened his steps. _Good, once we're back on the surface, we can find our bearings, and I can find the others._ He heart began to race with hopeful anticipation as he walked. _Please be safe._ If he hurried, perhaps he could save them before it was too late.

"What light? I don't see a goddamn thing," Grelos grumbled grimly as the gap between them widened.

His eyes must've been acclimated to the glow of his arcane aura, and were having difficulty focusing. "Don't worry, just follow me." As Marcus came closer to the light, and noticed that sweat was beginning to run down his brow.

"I can't see shit," the dragonborn continued to complain.

"Is it getting warm in here?" Marcus remarked casually.

"What are you talking about?" Grelos continued.

"Never mind, the outside air will cool us down." Marcus brushed the minor irritation aside.

"Marcus, stop."

"No, we're almost there!" He insisted, ignoring the peculiarly rising heat the best he could.

"Stop going that way!" Grelos repeated with increased insistence.

Almost there! Marcus broke into a spring, enduring the heat. _What is happening to me?_ The faint glimmer at the end of the tunnel shone with utmost brilliance, like as if he were staring through a looking glass towards the sun itself. His eyes began to water.

"Stop!" Grelos shouted out, too late.

Marcus' body seized, and he felt as if he were suddenly lit on fire. His skin boiled from all directions as the light became unbearably bright, scorching his eyes dry. He roared in agony and began to thrash about. He shut both eyes tightly as he attempted to fumble his way to safety with two outstretched hands. His sweating palms landed upon the rock wall, and they seared his flesh like a red-hot iron pan. He screamed again. _Silver._

In one impetuous act, he had run himself directly inside a silver deposit. Surrounded at all sides by a metal that proved fatal to his kind, this sensation must've been akin to stepping inside an oven. It felt like his skin would peel off at any moment. All coherent thoughts were violently shoved aside and all he could call upon was pure survival instinct. He took several strained steps forward, and each stride felt like his bare soles were being raked over flaming coals.

"Marcus." As he burned within the flames of his recklessness, he could hear the reverbing call of his name. "Marcus!" The voice grew in volume and dropped in pitch, and a pair of powerful and muscular arms seized him and carried forward, taking the strain off his severely weakened legs. The heat partially subsided as a large piece of cloth was hastily swept over his face, shielding him. His exposed parts continued to burn, but his ally kept the forward momentum.

 _Grelos?_ He realized who was helping him. "I didn't realize-" he began to apologize for his potentially lethal blunder.

"Don't talk, just run!" Grelos cut off his slow and droning words. Marcus took shallow and rapid breaths while suppressing his urge to cough. Each inhale baked his throat, like as if he were swallowing boiling water.

"I can't, I just can't." He had been told about this before. Because of their lineage, their weakness to silver could potentially override everything: bodily functions, perception of self, even instinct. With each excruciating step forward, the wish for an end to his suffering, no matter how bleak, became more and more desperate. _Please let me die,_ he caught himself thinking amidst the pain. _Please, just let this hell end._ He dropped his weight down, further encumbering Grelos.

"Don't you dare give up," Grelos thundered, shaking the walls of the cavern like an explosive detonation. "Your family is out there! They need you!"

 _My family?_ These words felt oddly familiar. _Don't think of the heat_. _Don't think of the pain._ He clenched his jaw, to the point at which it felt like his very teeth were about to break under the extreme pressure. But it was too difficult to think clearly.

"Your wife; what is her name?" Grelos shouted almost directly into Marcus' ear, but in his tortured state it felt like as if the dragonborn were on the other side of a city wall, and the voice came through in low, hushed tones.

"My wife?" Marcus strained through copper-tasting teeth.

"What is your wife's name?!"

"Her name?" The white hot flames in his mind's eye parted and turned to red, like early autumn leaves. _I should know this._ The red streaks coiled around and formed locks of hair-like strands. _Remember her name. Don't think of the pain._ Within the crimson maelstrom, he perceived two emerald eyes, that shone beautifully and vibrantly. Despite being on fire, locking sight with those eyes lifted his heart, and allowed him to think clearly for the first time in what felt like hours of torment.

"Cynthia," he stammered weakly as he attempted to maintain walking speed beside Grelos. "My wife's name is Cynthia," Marcus forced himself to speak clearly and firmly.

"We're almost there," Grelos groaned, pulling him along.

Alas, Marcus' body and spirit were no longer capable of withstanding the fiery punishment. As his physical legs buckled, in his mind's eye the visage of his beloved wife dissipated. The emerald orbs disintegrated into nothingness and were swallowed up by the dancing surrounding red flames. The blaze returned to full force, and brightened into an all-enveloping whiteness that entirely overwhelmed him.


	16. Blood and Water

"Nine Hells, you're a heavy bastard," Grelos groaned as he completed his arduous trek out of the winding silver caves, through the crowded forest, and finally to the side of a river. He relaxed his cramping shoulders, dropping Marcus' body beside the water.

His werewolf companion had not stirred once since he passed out from the prolonged silver exposure back in the caves. Grelos could not have imagined the agony that Marcus felt; he had never seen a man driven so delirious by pain before. Once Marcus went silent from anguish and fatigue, Grelos suspected that he had expired, and had half a mind to leave behind the dead weight. But Grelos took it upon himself to drag his unconscious ally the rest of the way to safety, reasoning be damned.

The dragonborn shakily dropped to his knees and repeatedly cupped the flowing blue water into his face. After he had drank his fill, he returned his attention to the still motionless Marcus. "Come on, wake up," he urged him, as he attempted to funnel the liquid down his companion's throat. There was no reaction. Grelos attempted once more, and the water continued to roll over Marcus' inert face. Grelos, unwilling to accept the potential alternative, "I had to carry your heavy ass this whole way; you don't have permission to die," he half-heartedly joked.

Marcus would usually provide counter-banter for Grelos' cynical rumblings, but this time he was silent. This vexed the dragonborn greatly.

Grelos leaned one ear onto Marcus' chest and attempted to hear his heartbeat. After several seconds on moving aimlessly around, he couldn't hear anything. "Where is that damned shaman when you need him?" Grelos blurted out randomly in frustration. Grelos was skilled in the ways of magic and combat, but a healer he was not. Causing injuries, rather than treating them, were his forte. He shook the werewolf, trying to trigger any reaction from him.

The uncomfortable silent lingered, and Grelos snarled to himself as he rushed back to the stream and returned with more water. He uphanded the handful of water, drenching Marcus face and scraggly hair. But once again, he did not stir.

Grelos' animalistic frustration flared within him, and he hastily curled his hand back and slapped Marcus across the face, in a brash attempt to wake him. "On your feet, soldier!" He barked with a commander's tone and posture. The cheek reddened and swelled at the point of impact, but there was still no response.

Without hesitation, Grelos seized the limp body with both hands by the soaked brown tunic and lifted the werewolf to his face. "Wake up, you lazy son of a bitch!" He roared closely to Marcus' ear. That also failed to elicit a response.

As the unthinkable became more probable, Grelos quickly stood up and began to pace frantically, digging himself deeper in the mud.

 _Spells, spells, spells. What do I have for this? Protection from wounds, regeneration, deflecting projectiles, no, no no!_ A life of constantly focusing on combat-centric magic had left him nearly useless in this life-or-death situation. _He's dying! What can I do? I can't heal him! I can't even wake him!_ Then he had an epiphany. _Maybe he just needs a little jolt._

Grelos knelt beside Marcus' body and stretched out his right hand, pointing the index finger at where he guessed his comrade's heart would be. _Please work,_ he hoped as he braced the casting arm with his other hand In that moment, he concentrated as hard as he could, nearly shaking from bracing his body so tightly. He had never attempted to cast a lightning spell under such a controlled setting before; it went against every instinct to simply unleash the elemental energy in full into his target. Alas, he intended to save Marcus, not fry him to a crisp. _Just a little jolt,_ he repeated the thought, pursing his lips. He breathily whispered the arcane incantation, and a single slender blue tendril of crackling electrical energy surged from out his fingertip and into Marcus' chest.

Marcus's face contorted for a moment, forming a grimace, and the rest of his body followed. A violent spasm rang out from his chest, causing his head to bob up and his arms and feet to displace themselves.

Grelos wasted no time, and moved in closer, returning his ear to where the magic had entered his friend. After several agonizing seconds of waiting, he finally heard a faint rhythmic thumping. Grelos sighed heavily, awash in relief, and collapsed face-first onto the mud. The werewolf was still unconscious, but at least he was still alive. _We removed him from the source of silver, so his body should start healing itself._ Grelos concluded.

From behind them, no more than ten paces from the water's edge, Grelos sensed a presence. He whirled around, carving an arc across the mud where his boots attempted to secure proper footing, as he swifting unsheathed his sword. His eyes fell upon a figure partially hiding behind the foliage of nearby saplings. "Who goes there?!" He shouted.

"Grelos!" An unexpected voice replied to him. "You're alive!" Abner stepped out of the shadows, a look of relief apparent on his dust-covered face. He had his daggers drawn during his approach, but quickly sheathed them behind his back. "I never thought I'd be so happy to see your ugly face!" He snarked with a laugh.

"The feeling's mutual," Grelos grumbled, stifling his own smile. He always found the rogue distasteful; clinging to shadows and wordplay were a coward's tools, his people regarded. But after the ordeal, Grelos was happy to know that some of his comrades were safe and alive. "Did you find the others, too?"

"Not exactly. I got separated from the party," Abner admitted with an exasperated breath. "I made some other friends though," he continued. "I figured we would need all the help we could get, to leave his forest in one piece." Abner turned away and let out a shrill melodic bird's whistle.

In the distance, past the treeline and lingering fog, the song was returned, and within a few seconds, three militia members, led by one black knight, marched towards them.

"Those are Pardue's fighters," Grelos noted quietly, so only Abner could hear. He had lowered his sword, but his fingers remained tightened upon the grip, prepared to flick out the blade at a moment's notice."What are they doing here?"

"I made an arrangement with them," Abner explained. "They'll help us back into the city, where it's safer. Just tell them you're with me, and everything will be fine." His eyes wandered off of Grelos and to the stream, finally falling upon the unconscious Marcus. Abner's face tightened into a worried frown. "Who's that?"

"That's Marcus," Grelos reluctantly answered "He passed out after we found a silver deposit. I barely managed to keep him alive." Grelos spoke as quickly and articulated as he could within their short time as the other party approached.

"Shit," Abner cursed under his breath.

The soldiers closed the gap and regrouped with Abner and Grelos. "Friend of yours?" Their noir-plated leader spoke out first, pointing with the tip of his sword.

"Yes, we were separated during the raid," Abner shot out quickly as Grelos was struggling to find words. The rogue gave him a strained look, half-squinting, and tried to hide the gesture from the others. Whatever gambit Abner had played on these soldiers was effective, but they remained cautious of the dragonborn. One wrong word could blow the entire ruse.

A part of Grelos acknowledged that diplomacy was not his strongest suit. So in lieu of further explanation, and risking exposure, he simply half-bowed in introduction. "I am Grelos, of the Stormwing clan." The reunion with one of his party member brought back thoughts of the others. "Where's Chrovan?" He asked, moving aside to partially block Marcus' motionless body.

"We," Abner began, but bit his lips mid-sentence as if there were a sudden bitter bitter taste in his mouth. "We were separated, too. I don't know what happened to him."

"You left him behind?" Grelos did not try to hide his look of appalment. He had pegged the rogue to be dishonorable, but never this low.

Abner shot back a defiant look, as if hurt by Grelos' implication. "He told me run," he began defensively. "Said that he'd be holding me back, in his injured state."

 _Sounds like Chrovan._ Grelos grimaced, feeling ashamed of prematurely judging the thief. _That stubborn jackass._ His hands clenched up into trembling fists at his sides.

"If I stayed, they would've taken the both of us," Abner finished. "Once we regroup, and get some fresh supplies, and if he's still alive, we can rescue him." Abner declared, sounding uncharacteristically heroic. Perhaps constantly interacting with the swaggering warlord had unexpectedly influenced the rogue.

"Who's that?" A less-armored foot soldier pointed at Marcus by the riverside.

"He's a hunter I found in the woods. He's wounded badly," Grelos blurted out.

"Leave him, he's dead weight," another nameless troop responded callously, and spat.

"He's a friend," Grelos continued, worried that each word drew them closer to falling off this knife's edge of a facade. "I will carry him myself," he insisted. If any of these fighters bore silver, Marcus' lineage would be immediately apparent the moment they came within close proximity of him. The black knight with the still-brandished silvered blade was especially worrisome. Its silvered fuller caught the sun rays that managed to pierce the dense overhead canopy.

"Suit yourself," the New Moon shrugged, turning himself and his fighters around. "He's your burden, and no one else's." The mass of injured and weary men and women followed their commander.

Abner sighed in relief, and he helped Grelos lift the unconscious werewolf upon the dragonborn's shoulders. Then they began another slow trek through the woods, accompanied by strangers in a fragile alliance.

An hour or two of cutting through greenery had passed before the found the road. The familiar landmark had greatly reduced the tension among the ranks, and the party strode towards the city with renewed hope. Some, but not all, had re-sheathed their swords. Throughout the journey, Grelos, checked Marcus' throat to confirm his pulse. It was always faint, but his heart persisted with each strained beat.

Eventually, one of the grunts spoke up. "So, where are you two from?" He removed his helm to wipe away his irksome brown hair, which had stuck to his face with sweat. This one introduced himself as Kirk. Earlier in their journey, he was kind enough to offer to help carry Marcus, but Grelos cautiously refused the offer.

 _I hate small talk,_ Grelos thought. He and Abner exchanged a look, as if either were unsure who should speak first.

The rogue, as quick of tongue as he was of hand, was the first to respond. "I grew up in Krysent," he started.

 _That sounds like nowhere I've ever been,_ Grelos thought. Perhaps the rogue was making up words, hoping their temporary allies wouldn't question something they didn't understand?

"It's the capital city of Alincor," Abner elaborated.

"I've never heard of either place." Kirk mirrored Grelos' reaction.

"Of course not, it's in the Feywild," Abner added, looking forlorn.

"What made you leave?" Grelos found himself asking, curious to learn more about the enigmatic thief.

"I," Abner paused, as if the taste of his words had soured in his mouth. "The country underwent a coup. It wasn't safe there anymore. So I left, before the bloodshed started."

Grelos shifted his shoulders, maneuvering Marcus' limp body to a position in which the bony parts didn't jam into him so roughly. _So, you're running from something, too,_ he realized.

"You're a long way from home." Kirk remarked as his green-specked hazel eyes glided over to lock with Grelos'. "What about you?"

Grelos had no tongue for clever half-truths and fabrications, so he spoke the truth, calmly and clearly. "Twelve years ago, I was exiled from my homeland on the Ebony Coast. I've been wandering the world ever since."

Abner gave the dragonborn a peculiar look. It was one of understanding, perhaps even pity, as of the rogue understood his pain. This vexed him greater than he expected, although he tried to hid it. He had never even told Chrovan, despite the months they had spent together. The human was always brief and never pried. But the thief read him like a book.

"That's rough," Kirk said with a sigh. He slowed his pace, allowing Grelos and Abner to catch up, so there were walking shoulder-to-shoulder. He reached behind himself and handed Grelos a faded red leather waterskin. "Thirsty?"

Grelos hesitated, unsure if he could trust the former stranger, but he eventually accepted the kind offer. "Thanks." He expected water to cross his lips, but instead met with a sour red wine. He heartilly gulped it down, pleasantly surprised. He then passed it on to Abner, who also gladly imbibed.

Grelos chuckled, further shifting to alleviate the tension caused by Marcus' weight. "Why do you have wine in your waterskin?"

Kirk shrugged and joked, "I figured dying would be easier with wine in the belly?"

"You're alright, Kirk," Grelos said. _I'd hate to have to kill you._ He glanced down warily at the silvered sword rattling at Kirk's hip. He was a sworn sword to a clan of werewolf slayers, and would have no choice but to perform his duty, if the ruse was uncovered. Thankfully, Kirk was just an expendable asset, so his armor didn't contain any additional silver. _Why waste precious metal on a doomed man?_ Expendability tended to be reserved for the people who deserved it the least, while the pompous folk with the fancy titles were granted the best arms and armor.

"Captain Rolark's gonna have my bollocks in a noose if he finds out, so keep it between us, would you kindly?" Kirk returned with a smile.

"Do you have any family?" Abner prodded.

"Yes, I have my wife and little boy," Kirk responded, beaming. "They drive me crazy, but they're my treasures."

"They'll be glad you made it out of the battle alive," Abner added. "I'm sure your wife will break the bed under you tonight, after you return home."

"Gods, I wish. But they're not in Crescent's Peak, thank the stars," Kirk laughed. "I had them sent away to Kravmoore."

"Why?"

Kirk sighed wearily and took a long sip before slinging the container. "It wasn't safe to raise a child here."

"Why didn't you leave with your family?" Abner dove deeper.

"Duty," Kirk stated firmly and proudly. "This was my father and mother's home, and their parents before them. I'll see to it restored to its former glory, and every remaining Feral Heart that threatens the peace shall be put to the silver sword." He drew his nicked blade, to add some theatricality to his boisterous claim.

"Down with the Feral Hearts!" One of the nameless foot soldiers at the head of the marching column joined in. He raised a mailed fist triumphantly into the air.

"Mangy rabies-infested curs, the lot of them!" The second one spat.

"Quit making a commotion, you fools! You'll give away our position!" The formerly silent Captain Rolark, clad in ink-black plate, commanded with a deep and booming voice.

Marcus stirred in his sleep, reacting to the presence of the silvered sword nearby.

Grelos took notice and his arm tightened, readied to reach for his own blade if the need resurfaced. _Put your sword away, you damn fool,_ he wanted to say.

Unfortunately, Kirk only moved in closer, funneled by stones that had fallen upon the narrowing path. By now, they were shoulder-to-shoulder, and Marcus let out a weakened moan.

Unable to think of a more optimal solution, Grelos readied himself for the only thing he knew. _I'm sorry, Kirk. For you, and your family_. He reached across his him and placed his clawed hand upon the handle of his sword. His fingers squeezed tightly upon the leather wrapping, he he began to pull it out from the sheath.

Abner suddenly buckled forward, interrupting Grelos' momentum entirely. The full weight of Marcus collapsed onto him when he was unprepared, and Grelos stumbled, losing his grip on the sword. In a blink of an eye, he righted himself and half-caught Marcus, only allowing his feet to land into the dirt.

 _What in nine hells are you-?!_ Grelos felt his rage welling up like a clogged furnace. He whipped his head over to see what the rogue was doing.

Abner grabbed his foot in both arms and winced painfully and loudly. "My ankle!" He writhed in pain for a moment.

"What now?" Rolark spun around, peering at them through his opened black visor.

Abner groaned aloud once more. "I think it twisted on those damned stones!" He pointed backwards at the terrain they had just crossed.

"Get up, you damn fool," Grelos growled. "You're too-" He halted himself mid-sentence when he realized what the half-elf was attempting. Grelos had journeyed with the rogue for only a few days, but he had since then measured Abner's aptitude, and knew that he was as fleet-footed as a leopard. Something as benign as a stray rock on the road would not so easily disable him. _He's faking it._

"Would you please shut him up?" One of the burly grunts snorted rudely.

Kirk sheathed his sword, granting Grelos instant relief, and rushed over to aid Abner.

"For fuck's sake, we should just leave them! He's gonna slow us down, and his wailing gonna bring those damned beasts straight to us!" The second one added, clearly agitated.

"I'll be fine!" Abner was adept at sounding sincere, Grelos had to admit. "I just..." he feigned shame before continuing. "I might need some help for the rest of the journey."

Kirk laughed "You should've taken my offer to help!" He helped Abner up to his feet, and supported the side with the fake injury. Abner leaned closely into him, keeping up the facade with the occasional groan of feigned pain.

Grelos also noticed Abner slipping his hand into Kirk's pocket and filching a stray handful of coppers. _Really, Abner?_ Somehow, this man was simultaneously the least and most predictable man he had ever met.

Abner flashed Grelos a quick smug and self-satisfied smile before Kirk or anyone else could notice.

"He'll be fine with me!" He shouted to the backs of his squad, who had already begun to move on without them.

"Suit yourself, you bleeding heart," Rolark chastised him with a dismissive wave of his hand, not even bothering to turn around. "If you lot get ambushed we won't waste a breath saving you."

With Kirk occupied with helping the "injured" Abner, he would not have the free arms to draw his sword anymore, and risk provoking Marcus further.

The sun light winnowed as they finally arrived at the gates. Grelos' legs burned; the trip was even more tiring without aid in carrying Marcus, but they had thankfully passed upon the alternative: making the crossing alone after a swordfight.

When they arrived at the gates, the soldiers spoke on their behalf, and after brief inspection, they were allowed into the safety of the city without further incident.

The men returned to the barracks, and Kirk and the party went their separate ways. Before departing, the kindhearted infantryman eased Abner onto a conveniently empty wooden bench within a recreational area of the residential district.

"You'll be fine," Kirk said with an assuring thumbs-up gesture. "Just stay off it for a while. And I would recommend you remain in town until the fighting ceases. The woods aren't safe anymore."

"I am indebted to you, kind sir!" Abner showered him with false gratitude, and Grelos rolled his eyes, tiring of the extended farce. "I'll be sure to name a child after you, if I live to see those days!"

Kirk blushed. "Think nothing of it, please. I'm just doing my duty."

Abner rummaged through his pockets, and pulled out a fistfull of coppers. These were the same ones he had secretly snatched from the man earlier, Grelos recalled. "Please, take these, as tokens of my gratitude!"

"No, I couldn't possibly-"

"I insist!" Abner thrust the coins closer to Kirk's face.

Kirk sighed in defeat, and accepted Abner's generosity. Or at least, it was a charitable as the rogue had ever been. "I'll put these to good use. My son might want a new wooden sword."

"May he grow up to be as kind and valiant as his father!" Abner declared aloud.

Kirk's grin never left his face as his bowed, turned around, and sauntered off to return to his post.

When he has left earshot, Abner sprung back up to his feet, quick as a falcon. "That went well! What next?"

"We find the others, if they're still alive," Grelos said glumly.

"Well done, Grelos," Abner said coyly, patting his aching back. "I'm pleasantly surprised and grateful that you didn't end out situation with another bloodbath," the thief joked.

Grelos ignored the jape, and watched as the brown-haired man disappeared into the distant crowd. "He's a good man, that Kirk," Grelos sighed, accepting Abner's friendly gesture. _He won't last long in this world._

Thankfully, Grelos and Abner did not need to wander aimlessly for long. They soon came upon one of Karus' messengers, which had taken on the form of a large white rat. As it scurried along the earth and towards them, Grelos could see a trail of blue-tinted energy in its wake, like a comet. It arrived at their feet and stood up on its hind quarters, beckoning them to follow.

"He's alive," Grelos said, awash in relief.

"What about Uriko?" Abner ask the rat spirit.

The creature was merely a messenger, and the only means of communicating said message was high-pitched squeaks and the occasional odd gesture. It eventually tired of the charade, and began scurrying away towards an undisclosed location.

The duo hesitated, but since they stranded in an unfamiliar town and without any guides, they ultimately decided to follow suit.

The creature lead them through corridors, across city streets, and past several busy people and playing children. Everywhere they ran, they saw eyes watching them, so they kept their hoods up to prevent arousing further suspicion. Eventually they arrived at a house with a green wooden door. Their rodent guide ducked low and squeezed past the narrow opening at the underside, where some of the wood had splintered, and disappeared from sight.

Seconds later, Grelos heard the sounds of the locks on the other end opening one-by-one, down the length of the door. It swung open, and they were greeted with Karus and Lance, brandishing their weapons.

"You're alive," Lance was first to speak. He and Karus cleared the path, allowing Grelos, Marcus, and Abner to swiftly enter the room. He looked past them, beyond the threshold of the door, to observe if they were followed. "Just you three?" He asked before closing the door.

"Grelos! Abner! I'm grateful that both of you made it," Karus said with a smile, shifting his staff's half to one hand. He then extended the other and shook their hands in turn.

"Ditto," Abner said, breathing heavily. "Did Uriko make it?" He asked, trying to sound disinterested.

"She's in the other room," Karus answered. "She'll be alright. We also found Frelick. He took a minor wound, but he'll live too."

Grelos sat Marcus' limp and unresponsive body onto a nearby chair, and it slumped lazily upon the woodwork. He hadn't stirred since their stroll along the path, but thankfully his heart soldiered on.

"What happened to him?" Karus asked? He knelt beside the unconscious werewolf to check for visible wounds.

"We became trapped underground, inside a damn silver mine, of all places," Grelos explained. "It's a miracle he's still alive."

"You brought a Feral Heart into the city?!" Lance protested, half-drawing his blade.

Marcus stirred in his sleep again and groaned weakly. A lethargic hand, powered by instinct, swiped the air in front of him and went limp at the side.

"Put your silver away," Grelos hissed, baring his fangs.

Lance stumbled back from the dragonborn's menace, and did as he was bid. Annoyingly, he persisted in his questioning. "Why is he here? Are you trying to get us killed?"

"He's not a Feral Heart!" Grelos reprimanded. "Those bastards want this man dead, as much as the New Moons do!"

Lance slinked away, but kept his suspecting eyes firmly affixed upon the werewolf.

"Where's Chrovan?" Karus asked as he invoked his shaman magic and further assisted with Marcus' accelerated healing.

"They took him," Abner answered, slamming a fist into a nearby post in impotent rage. "If they didn't kill and eat him outright, then I don't know where he is, now."

 _You've been through worse,_ Grelos tried to console himself about his comrade's potentially gruesome fate. But there was a more pressing task as hand."Did you see what happened to Marcus' wife?" Grelos dared to ask, dreading the answer.

Karus' look of uncertainty hurt Grelos more than he thought it would. "I didn't-I don't know what happened to them," he stuttered in disbelief. "After we were separated, we couldn't go back."

"They probably ran," Abner tried to reassure them, despite having no means of backing up such a baseless claim. "And escaped in the fog."

Grelos ran through the multiple situations in his head, and each one turned his stomach. _If she was in labor, there'd be no way they could flee. And if they somehow ran, the cries, the noise, the blood…_

"Is that Grelos and Abner?" A familiar feminine voice called out. He turned his head and saw Uriko standing by the door, with a small raven-haired child by her side, barely up to her waist. The shifter looked, more or less, whole and undamaged, but her eyes had been bandaged entirely around her head with a length of torn cloth.

"I have several questions," Abner declared in his usual playful tone.

"It's a long story," Uriko said, allowing herself to be lead into the furniture-filled room by the hand of the unnamed girl.

 _Here's the tale in short: you were duped by a murderous she-witch,_ Grelos want to say, but he had lost all taste for confrontation at this point. The entire ordeal, the battle, injury, and travels, had left him hollow and thoroughly exhausted.

"Until I can remove the spell placed on Uriko," Karus began. "It's best that Zanzibar not be able to see through her eyes."

Abner felt the need to address the other concerning topic. "And what's with the kid?" He pointed.

"She lives here," Karus stated the obvious. "Her name is Alice. I met her a few nights before. And her parents weren't thankfully home."

Grelos could barely believe the new situation they had found themselves in. "And when they do come home, I'm sure they'll be delighted to learn that seven strangers, one of whom is a fucking werewolf, have entered their home uninvited." It sounded like pure, unadulterated madness as the words passed his lips.

"Language." The rogue was always good at making light of any situation, regardless of appropriateness.

Karus frowned, looking sheepish. "True, it might be hard to explain, but we had no options. And she seems friendly enough," he gestured at her.

The timid youth had not spoken a word, but she continued to stare at Grelos with two shimmering blue eyes. They were filled with a slight tinge of fear, but mostly curiosity. Alice probably wasn't used to seeing dragonborn, giving her mostly racially homogenous upbringing.

"Oddly enough, she likes wolves," the shaman continued with a slight chuckle. "She has a bunch of toys and knick-knacks all around the home." He shrugged. "I think this is better than anything we could've hoped for. If we stayed in the inn, it'll only be a matter of time before more New Moons paid us a visit."

"Yeah, they'll want to know who killed their leader," Abner sighed.

Uriko's hand tightened around a chair that she was using to prop herself up, and the wood cracked slightly under her enhanced might.

When he heard the crackling of the woodwork, Grelos stifled a reactionary shudder, remembering the look on Adamance's face as his neck twisted and snapped like dried twigs. Grelos recalled the sound he made as the breath left him, and how the knight's mouth was agape in shock; he mustn't have expected to die so easily and so horribly. _Serves him right,_ he concluded, considering the harm he had done upon the innocent members of Marcus' coven.

"I'm hungry," Alice finally spoke up, albeit in a half-hearted, barely audible fashion.

 _I didn't agree to be someone's foster father,_ Grelos rolled his eyes, trying to ignore her.

Karus shot her a perplexed look. "When are your parent's coming home?" He asked. By now, it was almost midday.

"Papa was supposed to be home by morning," Alice replied, looking at her feet. Her belly lightly grumbled and she fidgeted sheepishly.

"Why did he leave?" Lance asked, showing genuine concern for a fellow resident.

"He left two nights ago, on a mission."

Grelos cocked an eyebrow. "What is your father's name?" There was a high likelihood that they had encountered this man during the prior raid.

Her innocent eyes shone like sapphires as they locked with his, and she answered plainly, "Adamance." Her words felt like as if all of Marcus' weight had been placed back upon him, all at once, and his heat sank.

Uriko released her grip from Alice's hand, and placed it upon her face, to hide her reaction. She shivered slightly, and her minute furs stood on end. The other hand dug deeper into the chair, nearby breaking it off.

Grelos gulped nervously, and looked around the room. Everyone had the same sullen eyes and wordless expression. Even the usually clever and sharp-tongued rogue had been rendered speechless. Grelos took a deep breath to compose himself. He reached out a hand to Alice, not before awkwardly wiping as much blood, dirt, and grime as he could on his tunic. "Come, I'll make you dinner," he stammered. "Could you show me where your stove is?"

After a moment's hesitation, Alice tenderly took his hand, which dwarfed hers in size, and pulled him into the other room, overjoyed at the prospect of a home-cooked meal.

"What would you like to eat, child?" Grelos strained out bitterly through clenched teeth as he made his way towards the pantry. His minor wounds could wait for now.

Alice skipped merrily alongside him.


	17. Brotherhood

Sleep came easier to Lance than he expected. Although mentally and physically worn down, he assumed that the battle craze would not allow his to fall asleep. Alas, the body swiftly overcame the mind, and after several dreamless hours, he opened his eyes to world filled with light.

The others appeared to be asleep, as he did not hear much commotion from inside the home. The outside world, however, was a different story.

They were thankfully distant, but he could hear the sounds of roaming troops. The hastily-fitted armor of the common foot soldiers often clattered upon itself whenever they marched. All the while, the sounds of interlocked chains tinkered in the background like a hundred wartime chimes.

 _Sounds like war,_ he thought. He had familiarized himself with the melodies of battle long ago, and now there were as familiar to him as the most oft-sung prayer hymns.

Whether it was early morning or late afternoon, Lance could not tell, even if he were outside. The perpetual fog that came during this season always make the sun's position a mystery. He groggily stumbled up from the airchair that he had taken for a bed, and leaned backwards, satisfyingly releasing the tension that had accumulated along his back.

In the adjacent room, Frelick was still sleeping. He had kicked off his blankets sometime during the night. His brow was damp with sweat, and he weakly murmured as he stirred restlessly.

Lance knelt beside him and felt his brother's forehead. The hapless fool was burning, a result of the lupine poison attempting to spread through his body.

The night prior, the shaman had performed a bizarre ritual upon Frelick, which was said to keep the symptoms and pain at bay. Karus had also warned that it would take a few days to discern whether additional treatment would be necessary.

The bandages that covered the werewolf bite across his shoulder were already darkened with blood and pus, and Lance had to constantly remind Frelick not to pick at them. Lance soaked a linen with some water and placed it onto Frelick's brow, to help alleviate the heat.

Lance took a seat beside his ailing brother and sighed in exasperation, burying his head in his hands. He then learned backwards upon the creaking chair; the full night's sleep had done little to diminish his physical and emotional exhaustion. Lance feared the worse for Frelick. If the wound became necrotic, Frelick could lose a limb, or worse, die from the shock. Alternatively, he would turn, and Lance could not decide whether that was better or worse than death. The church in Crescent's Peak had warned against the effects of lycanthropy time and time again. If they were still to be believed, Frelick would cease to be a gentle soul, and condemned to a life of violence and unsatisfiable urges. The briefest consideration of the alternative caused tears to well up at the corner of his eyes, as he caught himself tapping the dirk at his hip. _No,_ he thought to himself resolutely. _That will not happen. Karus won't let it happen._ _I won't let it happen. Frelick can fight it._

The next time Lance opened his eyes, he realized he had once again drifted into a unconsciousness, and another indiscernible period of time had passed. He groggily shambled back onto his feet, just as Grelos entered the room with Alice sauntering alongside him. They were carrying a tray of prepared food and drinks, respectively.

The room became flooded with the mouthwatering scent of fried bacon, boiled eggs, and toasted bread. And Lance's stomach rumbled loudly in response. The dragonborn was full of surprises, and Lance never would've expected the him to have known how to prepare meals. Alice had also persuaded, or more aptly, forced him to wear an apron during last night's preparations, which had caused Abner to laugh uncontrollably, to the point of tears, Lance recalled with an involuntary smirk.

"How's he doing?" Grelos asked as he set down two plates upon the table beside the bed. Alice followed suit with two glasses of pressed oranges.

"Still feverish," Lance replied. He took a long, deep drink of the sweet and sour pulpy mixture. The freshness of the fruit gave his mind a much-needed feeling of relief.

"He'll be okay," Grelos said awkwardly. The dragonborn was often blunt to the point of rudeness, so even his half-hearted, barely believable feign of positivity was appreciated.

Alice rushed over to him and offered to refill his emptied glass, and he accepted.

"Thanks," Lance responded haltingly, keeping his eyes on the soft-spoken child. They had taken refuge within Adamance's home. The man they had fought with and ultimately slain. His body left for worm food somewhere in the Lamenting Woods. Seeing Alice, and keeping that horrific truth hidden from her was like a dragging a whetstone against the back of his neck..

Although vexing, this was the least concerning problem. He just needed Frelick to be safe, and to be fully healed. His guilt could wait.

With the door open, in the adjacent room Lance could hear Karus mumbling words of some indiscernible dialect as his nose caught the scent of something burning. "What's going on in there?" He asked Grelos as the dragonborn and Alice were about to leave the room.

"He's been up all night, trying to remove...whatever Zanzibar did to Uriko," Grelos explained with a look of puzzlement drawn on his face. "It's some severely twisted magic," he added. "That wolf-witch can see through her eyes, and amplify her powers through Uriko. Like as if she's some damned totem." Grelos' jawline tensed with his mounting anger.

"Is she...dangerous?" Lance hesitated to ask, unknowing of how well these strangers trusted one another.

Grelos turned to him, eyes locking intently. "Yes," he admitted solemnly. "Stay away from her until Karus figures out how to expel the curse."

As the door creaked shut, Lance was left alone with his troublesome thoughts, and they rapidly grew in his mind like weeds. If Uriko was a direct line to Zanzibar, then all their lives were in peril. _Can she even control herself? Could she tell friend from foe?_ The thoughts raced about him, causing a cold sweat to trickle down his temples. As if drawn by an unseen hand, his eyes drifted to the sword resting against the nearby table. _Would I...no, could I?_ He returned to his brother, who was still restlessly fumbling among the furs and linens. He felt a tightness in his chest as he arrived to the inevitable conclusion. _If this is what it takes, then yes._ He deliberately took the sword from its resting place, fastened the belt around his waist, and left the room.

He passed by Grelos, Alice, and Abner having a short meaningless conversation. From the frantic flailing coming from inside the half-elf's chambers, it sounded like Abner had eaten too fast, and was now in danger of choking. Alice was in a panic as she feebly slapped his back, occasionally pausing to offer him something to drink. Grelos berated him all the while with his cold, condescending grumble, not moving from his spot leaned against the doorframe.

Lance slowly crept into Karus' room. A musky and smoking scent paired with a drastic increase in humidity rose up to greet him, and he stifled an instinctive cough. The window was shuttered, but the chamber was filled with candles, bathing the brick and mortar walls with a flickering amber glow.

Karus was standing, eyes closed, one hand resting against his erect gnarled staff and the other outstretched and drawing in the air with an unseen pen. "Please shut the door," he said softly to Lance.

In front of Karus, Uriko sat within a circle of arranged stones, each inscribed with a mysterious insignia. Kaiba, the ethereal spirit wolf, was present, and stood vigil over her, his form almost enveloping hers like a lupine cloud.

"The door, please," Karus repeated, his voice coarser this time.

Lance hastily closed the wooden slab, accidentally causing a draft that extinguished a trio of nearby candles. He awkwardly stammered, unable to find words.

"And please re-light those." Although Karus never turned to face him, Lance could tell that the shaman was exhausted. He leaned most of his weight against the staff, and beads of sweat were rolling off his cheeks and soaking into the carpet.

Lance wordlessly granted his request, and set the smoldering wicks ablaze once more. All the while, he had his eyes fixed upon the mysterious ritual that was being performed.

A ceramic bowl with a colorful geometric pattern was placed before Uriko's crossed legs, but whatever was in it had already been burnt to cinders. She appeared to be in a trance and swayed occasionally with Karus' words, and whatever parts of her skin were exposed through her hide clothing were drenched with sweat. The blindfold was still secured tightly across her eyes. Her ears twitched towards Lance, as if sensing his presence.

He felt coldness run up his back, despite the apparent heat of the room. It was an uncomfortable idea, knowing that Zanzibar had placed a set of seeing-eyes behind that thin strip of cloth. He found himself reaching for his sword, out of a terror-induced force habit. Then he remembered: she had slain Adamance, someone whom was previously perceived as untouchable. _Would I even have a chance?_ More niggling doubts and paranoid thoughts resurfaced, dragging him deeper into fear. _Is Karus even trustworthy? What if he's involved? He kinda looks like a wolf,_ Lance heard himself thinking. The shifter was just a stranger to him and his brother barely a week ago, and yet here they were, staking their lives on him and his equally baffling comrades.

Karus took one last deep breath, and waved his free hand in a wide arc. In an instant, a mystic wind rushed around the entire room, putting out all the lights. As Lance's eyes adjusted to the dark, he beheld Karus stepping towards Uriko, hand outstretched. He knelt within arm's reach, and she jerked away slightly in reaction. Lance feared that whatever magic had a grip on her would lash out again, and whether he would be powerless to defend himself, should the need arise.

The shaman deliberately leaned forward, placing his sideways palm upon her chest, muttering a word.

Lance felt the abrupt gust once more, this time originating from Uriko. When he pulled away, there was a black ashen mark left upon her chest. He stumbled back, attempting to balance himself against the nearby table. However, in the dim light, his grip slipped and he started to fall over.

Without thinking, Lance let go of his blade handle and rushed over to pick up Karus before he fell.

Trembling, Karus turned to him with a weak smile. "Thank you, Lance." His breathing was deep and labored.

"What's going on?" Lance couldn't help but ask.

Uriko was also slumped down, still seated. She appeared to be thoroughly exhausted from the ordeal, too.

"Whatever Zanzibar did to her," Karus began, regaining his composure. "I am unable to remove. It's a power beyond my ability to heal, unfortunately."

"If it's a curse that needs removing, maybe Pardue could do it?" Lance suggested, before realizing the folly of his idea.

"Yeah, before or after he has all our heads chopped off?" Karus remarked sardonically.

"I don't need any help from that monster," Uriko shot out. She slowly stood up behind them, re-lacing her bodice and hiding the black handprint. "He gave the order for his mad dog to butcher my family," she continued, her words covered in thorns. She began undoing the makeshift blindfold that obscured her eyes.

Lance gulped nervously.

When she removed the mask, her eyes were a vibrant glowing yellow and burrowed into him with a paralyzing ferocity. "If I ever see him again, I'll kill him myself," she declared.

"I was, however, able to place a ward on her," Karus continued, after being interrupted by the heated exchange. "It'll block Zanzibar's influence on her for now, and prevent the shared sight. This will buy us some time to find a means of removing the curse permanently."

Within Uriko's hateful eyes and fierce words, Lance also saw something familiar: fear. Whether it was for Pardue, consequences of the prior night, or the well-being of her comrades, he could not tell. But he knew, for it was like staring at a mirror into his own soul. The same fear almost drove to him to attempt the unthinkable, and he felt ashamed to admit it.

"How do you feel?" Karus asked her.

Uriko took a deep sigh before answering. "I'm hungry."

The remainder of the day passed without incident. Karus had placed some form of temporary barrier over Zanzibar's dark magic, and it proved to be effective for the time being. However, it was not a permanent solution, so Lance's tense nerves were stretched near the breaking point after sitting near Uriko for a few hours. He had not personally beheld what she was capable of, but left like a mouse standing before a caged tiger. One slip up, one fault of the magical ward, and he would be dead before he could even draw his sword. _If Adamance couldn't even scratch her, then what chance do I have?_

He remembered their first confrontation, which occurred as he anticipated. She was no match for him, and he had her dead to rights at the edge of his bastard sword. But somehow, in barely two days time, she managed to eclipse his strength and speed with black magic. It was impressive, in a horrifying way.

Although Uriko's ailments had been kept at bay, Frelick continued to stir restlessly in a waking dream-like state throughout the day. Karus and Uriko both took turns to assist with his care, as they were the ones most familiar with lycanthropy and its treatment. Both of them carried were-blood in their veins, but their ancestors had learned how to tame and shape the affliction, whereas the were-folk could only unleash it, and often without any semblance of control.

 _Would you rather be more controlled, but subdued? Or to be stronger and faster, but have less control? Would it be more advantageous to be like a dog, or a wolf?_ Lance contemplated strange emergent thoughts as the hours dragged on, waiting for some resolution to his brother's shifting condition. That was a unfair trade in either way. If he could be strong enough, he would be able to protect, and if necessary, avenge anyone. But if he lost control, would he just become another monster, like the creatures he was raised from birth to despise and hunt?

Lance's slumber was interrupted but a pathetic whelping sound. Frelick had rolled too violently, and fallen off the bed. His brother struggled to rise, but could only sit on all fours like an injured wild creature.

Lance rushed over to aid him, placing a comforting hand around Frelick's midsection to brace him up.

Frelick whipped his head around in an abrupted frenzy, mouth overrunning with saliva. He bared teeth, which appeared to have been filed down to sharpened pointed, and gleamed in the moonlight.

The sudden jolt caused Lance to recoil in terror, falling backwards. He crawled backwards, to get away.

His brother's breathing was deep and guttural as he approached, remaining on all fours. The whites of his eyes were almost entirely obscured by bulging veins, which appeared like black tendrils in the low light of midnight.

"Frelick?" Lance stuttered, attempting to stand, but finding his legs turned to stone.

His brother snarled sharply, as if the mere mention of his name were a bitter potion he was being forced to swallow. He took four prolonged, dragging steps towards him, until he was almost straggling Lance's outstretched legs.

The bandage secured around Frelick's injured shoulder had been jostled loose from moisture and constant stirring, and it became undone as it snagged some nearby furniture. When the brown-crusted linens peeled off, they revealed pristine, undamaged flesh. The wound had healed entirely, which would've been impossible; it was a deep gash, and he was only human.

 _Is he, still?_ Lance thought.

Frelick was now close enough for Lance to smell his breath. He hadn't eaten since they arrived, but his mouth smelled of charrion, almost making Lance gag in response. But before Frelick could act any more, his eyes suddenly softened, his jaw went slack, and he collapsed forward into Lance's chest.

For a moment, Lance thought he had died, and his heart stopped beating. He cradled his unconscious brother in his arms, and searched desperately for signs of life. A slow but steady breathing from Frelick's nose brought tears of joy to his eyes as he sat on the floor, rocking his afflicted sibling.

Karus stumbled into the room, still groggy from being awakened in the dead of night. "Lance! Frelick? Are you okay? I-" he interrupted himself when he laid eyes upon the scene. He rushed to their side and continued his questioning. "Did he change?"

"Almost," Lance strained out, his voice trembling. "The wound's healed entirely," he said with a forced laugh. Normally, such a phenomenon would be a miracle, but in this specific dire situation, it was like a needle through his heart. And he knew from Karus' wordless reaction that they were rapidly running out of time. "I there anything we can do?"

"I wish I could, but I need spell components. Something to remove the curse before it takes hold," Karus explains. "Uriko's ward consumed most of what I had. Maybe the market? But I can't step foot outside with the entire city watch looking for us."

Lance resigned to despair, and allowed the tears to fall. His kindhearted brother did not deserve a fate like this, and he bitterly cursed the gods for allowing it to happen.

"I'm sorry," Karus said solemnly.

Someone by the entrance cleared their throat, cutting through the tension. They both looked up to see the rogue leaning against the post, half of his body submerged in the darkness. It was like as if a living shadow had brought forth the half-elf; Lance did not hear or see him entering the room. "If you want someone to run an errand, all you have to do is ask nicely," Abner spoke.

"Please," Lance begged, out of options.

Karus resolutely stood, approaching his veiled companion. "I can give you the list. But are you sure you can get these without arousing suspicion?"

"Look who you're talking to," Abner quipped with a cocksure smile.

He and Karus held a brief hushed conversation. The shaman listed off several plants, metals, the most notable one being liquid silver, and other miscellaneous material components. Abner nodded with each word, tapping his foot impatiently. When they were done, Abner turned around to leave, not before saying, "If I'm not back by noon tomorrow, just wait a bit longer." He never seemed to be able to take a situation seriously, no matter how urgent. But right now, he was their best hope. Abner slipped away, vanishing from sight and sound.

Lance hushed his unconscious brother, who had begun murmuring again. "It's going to be okay, little brother," he whispered after placing a tender kiss upon his sweat-laden brow.

True to his word, Abner did not return until the early evening of the next day. There was a furious knocking at the door, followed by the rushing rogue, carrying a sack of pilfered items. It was blatantly obvious that he had acquired more than the sparse list Karus had given him.

Uriko rushed from her chambers to greet him.

Grelos also made an appearance. He had spent most of the day attending to Marcus, who was apparently a werewolf greatly injured after prolonged silver exposure in the nearby caves. "What took you so long?" The dragonborn spat.

The rogue whipped his head around to face him. "Ask me: what's the most important part of thieving?'" Abner responded in his usual carefree tone, not answering the question.

Grelos did not bother to humor him. He stood, cross-armed and solemn.

Instead, Alice chimed in, curious. "What's the most import-"

"Patience," the rogue interrupted her mid-sentence. After an awkward pause, a smug look of self-satisfaction crept back to his face.

Lance rolled his eyes. "Did you get the spell components or not?"

"Yes, he did," Karus answered for him. He had already begun rummaging through the burlap sack, filtering out the materials he needed to perform the ritual that could save Frelick's mind." He pulled out a small coil of thin black steel wire and held it aloft with a perplexed look. "What purpose does this serve?" He inquired the rogue.

"It's complicated," Abner gave another non-answer. "Just take what you need, and I'll handle the rest." His attention quickly diverted. "Do you still have any food? I'm famished," he sauntered into the kitchen, disappearing from sight.

"We're almost out," Uriko answered.

"This house was not adequately stocked to feed a group this large," Grelos added.

"You eat too much, Grelos," Alice pouted.

"When you're as large as me, little one, you can't help it," Grelos chuckled, rustling her hair. Lance was so unaccustomed to the dragonborn showing tenderness to anyone that it felt deeply uncomfortable to behold.

"We need to restock on provisions soon," Uriko concluded.

"I wouldn't suggest that," Abner replied, returning with a piece of dried cured meat rolling around the back of his mouth. "Oh, I forgot to mention." He pulled out a large piece of parchment and unfurled it, revealing a wanted poster. "The city watch is looking for you." The paper contained an approximate likeness of Uriko, Karus, and Grelos.

"They didn't even get your face right," Abner addressed Grelos snidely. "You're much prettier in person than this." The rogue never ceased to find every situation funny, despite the dire circumstances.

Grelos snatched the poster out of his hands. "Damn," he resigned to acceptance. "Did you acquire any rations?"

"Yeah, but they're suited from travel, not for cooking," Abner explained. "I figured we'd want to get out as soon as the watch eases up." He swallowed a portion of ale before resuming. "They've already begun rounding up people for questioning too. Everyone's afraid."

"What's this?" Karus pulled out some climbing equipment and a map with coal-like scribbles on it. "This a map of the silver caves," he elaborated. "Abner, we don't have time for this nonsense." The shaman tossed these nick-nacks aside, content with all the spell components accrued. He moved into the other room, to begin preparations undisturbed.

Lance noticed a hairline fracture of pain flashing in Abner's cocky expression, but the rogue chose not to speak. Instead, he continued gnawing on his ration until it was all gone.

Grelos beheld the half-elf with a raised eyebrow. "You think he's still alive?" He asked.

Abner shrugged, his smile fading into a look of uncertainty. "I don't. But I have to try something," he uttered.

Lance finally understood. _There were five of them, before this._ Lance couldn't recall his name, but he remembered his distinguished demeanor and martial prowess. Both traits felt like he came from nobility. But if the fifth man was lost in the woods, his chances of survival were slim to none. Perhaps the rogue were not such a dishonorable man, after all.

Karus meticulously prepared the cleansing ritual throughout the night. Lance never left Frelick's side, but he could hear Karus shuffling furniture and drawing symbols, as well as smelled the occasional scent of something burning. In the dead of night, Karus called him over, and Lance carried his despondent brother into the chamber.

Once again, the shades were down, and the room was awash in candlelight. A ritual circle had been placed at the center of the room, and the wolf spirit Kaiba was waiting in the center.

"Place him there," the shaman gestured with his staff, and Lance promptly followed his instructions.

Frelick was limp and unresponsive, so it took multiple attempts to prop him up in way in which he would stay in place. Once Lance left the circle, Kaiba rushed to Frelick and enveloped him, like with Uriko the prior night.

"Now what?" Lance inquired, unsure of his further involvement. The arcane, the divine, the spiritual, these were all foreign concepts to him.

"We begin," Kaiba answered as his lupine form began to pulse and glow.

"Fair warning, Lance: this will hurt him," Karus explained gently, although the words sent a shiver down Lance's sweat-laden back. "May I proceed?"

Lance's mind raced with endless thoughts of how things could've turned out differently, and he deeply pondered about whether he had any other optiions. He took a breath to steady himself, and said decisively. "Please. If it will save him, do whatever it takes."

"Okay," Karus accepted, tilting a glass vial filled with silver powder into his hand. He then threw the pieces over Frelick, showering him with a shimmering rain.

Frelick hissed in pain and recoiled, but Kaiba held him in place.

Karus waved his staff once in an arc, and the flames seemingly danced in response, glowing brighter than possible. The shaman began to murmur some incoherent babbling, swaying with each enunciated word.

Lance watched, unable to assist and paralyzed by fear and uncertainty. _What can I do?_ This was entirely out of his realm of expertise, so he could only stand there, hands hanging impotently at his sides.

When Karus completed his arcane verse, he planted the staff, and it somehow remained erect, as if suspected by unseen strings. He moved towards Frelick, both hands outstretched and prepared to clamp upon the sides of his head.

Suddenly, Frelick's eyes snapped open, glowing purple like amethysts, and his brow furrowed deeply. His teeth were suddenly bared, gleaming and appearing supernaturally sharp. He arose to meet him and brought both hands upward in a wide swing.

Karus' eyes were glassy with shock, indicating that he had not anticipated the reaction. Frelick's first strike caught the shaman below the ribs, and Lance could hear the slightest crack as time appeared to slow. The second strike met with Karus' face as he bowed forward in pain, uprooting him with a splatter of blood.

The spirit wolf Kaiba was dispelled by the sudden outburst, along with several of the candles.

Karus tumbled backwards against the window to his back. He attempted to right himself, but instead, collapsed forward and clutching his injured midsection. Behind him, the sheets covering the window were tossed asunder, revealing the night sky. Clouds parted to reveal a pale white moon. The suspended staff also fell to the floorboards in a clatter.

Frelick stood hunched over in the darkness, silhouetted by moonlight. His features shifted with sickening meaty pops and crunches. His arms appeared to stretch, until they were reaching below his knees and his snout elongated. He let out an agonized grunt with each gruseome change, and gripped the sides of his head in pain. Jet black hair sprouted from every exposed part of his skin and his muscle structure expanded, tearing apart his clothing from the inside.

Lance could only watch in abject horror, tears welling up in his eyes. He remembered he had left his sword and shield in the other room, but his arms and legs had turned to lead. He stared with bated breath as all features of his once-human brother peeled away to reveal a feral beast underneath.

Frelick turned to face Lance, jawline clenched tightly and salivating profusely. He took three shambling wide steps closer, and Lance shuddered when he felt the warmth of his breath cascading upon his face.

The door behind him slammed open, and Abner gasped in shock. "Woah!" He could only say before instinctively drawing a knife and throwing it. The blade sailed through the air, spinning twice before sinking itself into Frelick's bulging shoulder. The newly transformed werewolf flinched in pain, grasping the wound.

"No!" The action yanked Lance from his fear-induced stupor. He rushed in front of Abner and stopped him from pulling out his crossbow and loading it with a bolt.

"Let go, you idiot!" Abner attempted to pry loose from Lance's grip. Their brief struggle was interrupted by the sound of a shattered window, as Frelick burst out of Adamance's home and entered the midnight street. Lance listened to the sound of frantic feral steps disappearing into the night. His brother was gone.

 _Karus,_ he remembered, and he ran over to help the discombobulated shaman. Karus was coughing violently and trying to catch is breath, and the portion of his face where Frelick had struck him was swollen and blue. "Are you okay?"

"Not really," Karus strained out. It took both Abner and Lance to pick up and place him upon the nearby bed. He turned his head and spat out a tooth suspected in some blood.

Uriko and Grelos also entered the room. "What happened? We heard a comm-" They fell silent when they beheld the scene.

Alice also slowly walked in, rubbing her eyes and yawning cutely. "I heard a noise!" She proclaimed.

Grelos turned to address her. "Sweetie, this is grown-up business. Please go back to sleep."

Alice shrugged and obeyed without question.

"His eyes," Lance stammered, still in disbelief.

"I should've known," Karus let out between involuntary fits of coughing. "That damn witch thought of everything," he berated himself.

Lance didn't understand, but he knew what the next course of action would be. "Where did he go?"

"She's calling all of her pack back to her," Karus explained. "She's planning something big. I need to do somethi-" He yelped in pain as he tried to sit up, agitating his fractured ribs.

"You're in no state to be moving around," Uriko rushed to his side.

"No, I can-" The stubborn mutt protested.

"Stay here," Lance cut him off. "Stay here and allow yourself to heal and rest. I'll get him back," he said with determination. He shot a knowing glance to Uriko, and she nodded in response. She would keep him safe. Lance then walked back to his room and slung the blade and shield over his back. He then filled his satchel with some basic equipment and supplies before heading towards the exit.

Abner intercepted him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't want to hear it," Lance didn't wait to hear his words, and shrugged the hand off. "I'm not leaving him alone, out there."

"I know," Abner responded. "I'm not stopping you; I'm coming with you."

Lance turned around to face him. "Why?"

Abner shrugged. "Because if you go out there alone, you're going to die. Simple as that."

Lance clenched both his teeth and fists at the rogue's cutting words. But despite all his anger, he knew that Abner was in the right.

"If Frelick is heading to regroup with the other Feral Hearts, then there's a chance he will lead us to Chrovan," Abner announced his intentions. "I can't leave, not without knowing if he's alive or dead."

Lance nodded and grunted, "Fine, but don't slow me down." He quickly marched out the door and onto the main street, heading towards the south entrance to the town. Some of the nearby neighbors had been awakened by the commotion, but he paid them no heed. He briefly turned his head to see if Abner were still following, and saw no one behind him. _Not so fast now, are you?_

As Lance returned his sight to the road ahead, Abner appeared before him, like as if a nearby shadow had birthed a man. Lance almost let out an involuntary shout of fright.

Abner smirked, showing his perfect teeth. "You don't know me very well, so I'll let that last rude comment slide. Now let's see _you_ keep up."

Together, the unlikely duo slunk away and out of Crescent's Peak under the shadows of moonlight.


End file.
